


nice to meet you

by lukegodbaby



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Car Accidents, Other, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Reader-Insert, Spanking, ambiguously gendered reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 13:25:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18195173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukegodbaby/pseuds/lukegodbaby
Summary: when your car starts acting up, you truly meet one of your classmates for the first time.





	1. one

“If you don’t stop playing with that, I’m going to make you take it out and put it on my desk.”

You looked up from the notes you were taking to see Mr. Oliver looking right at you, pointing at your face where you were playing with one of your snake bites, pushing at it with your tongue.

“No, you won’t,” you said, defiant. “My parents fought tooth and nail for me to wear these, and the principal won’t be pleased to hear about you doing that.”

He rolled his eyes. God, you didn’t like him before, but now, you hated him.

“They didn’t fight for you to distract yourself and the rest of the class,” he said.

“I’m not distracted — it helps me think,” you said, holding up your notebook, showing off the notes you’d been making up until he started being so rude. “Besides, no one else is distracted by my piercings. Right?”

You looked around at your classmates. No one made eye contact with you, embarrassed. One boy, a bigger guy who sat at the back of the room, actually looked away when you caught his eyes.

 _Traitors_ , you thought.

“Either take them out or go sit in the hallway for the rest of the period,” said Mr. Oliver. “I won’t have you disrupting my class.”

“You’re the one disrupting class over my piercings. I was minding my own business,” you pointed out.

“Out,” he said sharply.

You heaved an enormous sigh, determined to continue pissing him off. Asshole. You gathered your things and went out to the hall, slamming the classroom door closed behind you, sitting on the floor beside it.

You took your notebook out and started drawing all over the last page of notes, since you weren’t going to finish it anyway. Crowns and bleeding hearts and swords and things, soothing yourself by tonguing at your piercings.

After ten minutes — you’d been sent out fairly early in the class period — you gave up on him coming out to actually acknowledge your existence. You got up and started walking toward the front of the building, intending to go out to your car and smoke.

You passed Patrick Hockstetter, infamous asshole, being escorted by Mr. Cleaver — the incredibly brawny and handsome Chem teacher. You held back a sigh. He was too dreamy.

Patrick, however.

“Hey, there,” he said, giving you a scummy once-over.

You rolled your eyes.

“Move along, Patrick,” said Mr. Cleaver. He sent you a sympathetic look.

You wondered what Patrick had done, this time.

You were new enough to the school that you didn’t know much about anyone, but you’d have to be dead to not know about Patrick Hockstetter. Last week, he’d started a fire in the girls’ locker room. Today — well, you were sure you’d hear about it, eventually.

Not that anyone would tell you. You’d have to eavesdrop for that.

Once you got out to your car, you checked your reflection in the side mirror. Your eye makeup and lipstick were still going strong. Black and deep, both of them. Your hair was looking a little deflated, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

You felt how your hair looked. No air left in you.

Why did adults have to be such assholes?

Some people just couldn’t handle how you looked.

You lit up a cigarette, grateful for the short rush you got with the first drag.

A new school, and you were already making enemies with the staff. A new school, and again, people singled you out and made you feel like shit. You couldn’t make friends because no one wanted to hang out with someone who tried to look dead, with someone, well. Goth.

You sighed and finished your cigarette.

The bell rang, signaling for the whole school to go to lunch. You went back into the building to your locker, getting your lunchbox and going back outside to sit on the steps and eat.

More tofu. Your parents, raised by hippies and not going to ever let that go, had made tofu lo mein last night for dinner, and you liked it so much that you’d packed it for lunch. Would’ve been better if you could microwave it, but oh well. It was still damn decent cold.

As you ate, a group of guys pushed past you, knocking your shoulder with their knees.

“Freak,” one of them spat.

You looked up. It was the blonde one, the one called Henry.

You glared and flipped him off, one chipped fingernail in the air. He laughed, and you laughed back, cruel and unforgiving.

You knew you were soft on the inside, but on the outside, you were scary. You knew it, and you used it when you had to.

The other guys followed him, Patrick and the boy from your last class pulling up the rear.

What was his name, the one who’d looked away when you’d tried to catch his eye?

You went back to your food.

It didn’t matter.

After school, shit hit the fan. For about a minute after you pulled out of the school parking lot, everything was fine. Then, your steering wheel started shaking violently. You swore and pulled over.

You pulled out your cell phone and called your dad first, then your mom. Neither of them picked up, probably too busy with work. You understood. Running a thrift store took a lot of time and energy.

You swore again, though.

Then, you looked up the nearest mechanic shop.

You drove there, refusing to go any faster than ten miles an hour, despite people honking at you.

You pulled into the parking lot, next to a beautiful blue car you recognized from school.

“Reggie! We got another. Clock in and get your ass over there!” a man called.

You waited by your car, and a boy walked up to you. No. Not a boy. _The_ boy — the one who’d looked away in class.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, rubbing his hands on his jumpsuit, giving you a once over. His eyes seemed to get caught on your boots, tall platforms with buckles all the way up to your knees.

“Reggie. That’s your name?” you asked, not answering him just yet. “I’ve only heard Oliver call you Mr. Huggins.”

“Yeah,” he said.

He looked a little uncomfortable, so you decided to stop giving him the third degree.

“Well, nice to meet you. My steering wheel is shaking. It sounds like a motorcycle in inside my car,” you said.

“Jesus,” he said. “Can I take it for a spin?”

You handed him the keys.

“Knock yourself out,” you said.

He got in your car, turning off the radio when the Cure started blaring from the speakers. You smiled. He drove it around the block, returning quickly.

“Jesus,” he said again when he got out.

“I know. Any ideas?”

“Not a clue,” he said honestly.

“Fuck,” you said.

“Lemme ask one of the guys. Dom!”

A man walked out of the workshop towards you.

“Black lipstick,” said the man — Dom. “Nice.”

He gave you a look that reminded you of Patrick. You made a note to stay away from this guy as often as you could.

“Keep it in your pants, Dom,” said Reggie. “Steering wheel’s shaking. Really bad, but worse over like, 20. Any ideas?”

Dom thought for a moment, raking his hands through his short, curly hair.

“Check the tires,” he said. “Might be missing a bolt.”

“’Kay.”

Dom walked away, and Reggie went around your car, crouching next to the tires, looking closely. At your front left tire, he made a small noise.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re missing two bolts. Easy.”

“Cool,” you said. You held up your pack of cigarettes. “You mind?”

“Nah, go ahead.”

You lit up as he walked away. He came back when you were halfway done with your cigarette, holding two bolts in his big hand.

He screwed them on and stood, slapping the hood.

“There you are. ‘M gonna take it for another drive, see if that’s it. But it should be. Dom’s a creep, but he knows his shit.”

“Okay,” you said, ashing your cigarette.

He took your car for another short drive, and came back, smiling.

You took a deep breath but kept holding his eye. God, what a great smile this guy had.

“That fixed it,” he said.

“Great,” you said. “What’ll it cost me?”

“Eh. It was just a coupla bolts. This one’s free.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure. Consider it me saying sorry for Dom creepin’ on you.”

You smiled.

“Thanks, man,” you said.

“And here,” he said, pulling a card out of his pocket. He held it out for you.

You took it, reading the front. Flusche and Sons, it said. You turned it over. In a messy hand, there was a phone number.

“That’s my number,” he said. “Something happens again, you call me.”

“I’ll just come here,” you said.

“Well, then. If you can’t drive, call me.”

You let out a short laugh.

“Never had a guy try to pick me up so fast,” you joked.

His cheeks tinged red.

“That’s — that’s not —”

“Hey, I was joking,” you said kindly. “Sorry. I’ll see you ‘round.”

“’Kay.”

You drove home, grateful that things were okay again.

When you got home, neither of your parents were there, yet. To be expected, of course. The shop didn’t close for another couple hours, and they’d be home even later than that.

You called your mom. She picked up.

“Hey, starchild,” she said, pulling out her special nickname for you. She must be having a good day, then.

“Hey, Mom.”

“I saw you called. I’m sorry, I had someone right in front of me. What’s going on?”

“My car — something messed up. The steering wheel was shaking really bad. I took it to Flusche and Sons and they fixed me up.”

“That was fast! What’ll it cost us?”

“Nothing. The guy just put a couple of bolts on my wheels and let me go.”

“Ooh, he must have noticed how cute you are.”

“ _Mom_. It totally wasn’t like that.”

“Then why can I hear you smiling, my sweet child?”

You laughed.

“Oh, ‘cause I am.”

“Was he cute?”

You thought about it. In a way, yeah. Reggie was cute.

“Sure,” you said. “I never noticed before, but yeah. Kinda cute. We go to school together.”

Then you grimaced.

“One of my teachers threatened to make me take out my snake bites today,” you said.

“Oh, honey. I’ll talk to the principal.”

“You don’t have to —” you started.

“Oh, but I will. Listen, someone just walked in. We’ll talk more when I get home, okay?”

“Okay, mom. I love you.”

“I love you too, starchild. ‘Bye, now.”

“Bye.”

You hung up and went upstairs to your room. You opened up your laptop, choosing to ignore your homework for a while. You got on Skype, finding that your best friend, Raven, was already online.

 **Hey** , you typed

_Hey yourself. How’s school?_

Raven was homeschooled. Lucky bitch.

**Sucks. Teacher got onto me for my snake bites.**

_Asshole_

**I know**

_Anything else?_

**Car fucked up. Had to take it to the shop**

_Fuck. Meet any cute mechanics? ;)_

You laughed. Typical Raven. She saw the whole world as a playground, constantly looking for new toys.

**Actually yeah. I guess. There’s this guy who works there I go to school with.**

_Oh yeah???_

**Yeah. Nice smile**

_Oooh nice!_

You talked for another hour, unwinding. You blasted your latest playlist, relaxing until you were little more than a puddle on top of your bed.

You said goodbye to Raven when you heard your parents come in, and you went down to help them make dinner, talking about your collective day, how Mr. Oliver got onto you, what you could do about it.

When you went to bed, you laid there under your covers, thoughts wandering.

They kept coming back to Reggie. His smile, the crinkles next to his eyes.

You sighed.

You probably were going to have a crush on him.

That was okay, as long as it didn’t become anything else. You weren’t ready for another — something.

Your last something had just ended, and you weren’t ready for something new.


	2. two

The next day, you were up, bright and early. You were carefully teasing your hair when your mom knocked on your door.

“Come in!” you called.

“There’s my sweet child,” she said, setting your breakfast on the desk, next to your elbow. Heavily milked coffee and tofurkey bacon and toast.

You smiled at her. She had her hair piled on top of her head, two chopsticks sticking out of it, charms dangling from the ends. They jingled when she turned her head to look in the mirror on the wall in front of you.

You looked a lot like her — at least you did right now, without your usual makeup on. You scooted over so she could sit next to you on your chair as you continued doing your hair.

“You missed a spot in the back, starchild,” she said.

“Can you get it for me?”

She took the comb from your hand and set to gently ratting a piece of hair directly on the back of your head. You smiled at her reflection, her soft and determined expression. You put several rings on as she finished and put the comb down. You turned your head this way and that, checking out your hair, fluffing it up on the sides.

You didn’t always wear your hair like this, but when you did, it had to be perfect.

Satisfied, you picked up a piece of your delightfully fake bacon and bit off the end.

“What’s the plan today?” you asked.

“Go through the new donations. We got a bit that you might be interested in, if you want to come after school,” she said.

“Ooh, don’t mind if I do,” you said.

She put her arm around you, squeezing you for a moment before she stood up.

“Your dad and I are leaving in a few minutes. Make sure you’re down to say hi to him before we go,” she said.

Like she even had to ask. You always dropped in before they left.

She left your room and you carefully began filling out your eyebrows. They always came first, after hair but before eyes.

When you were done in a minute or so, you walked downstairs to hug your dad.

“Hey, sweet bean,” he said. “You make it a good day, okay?”

“Okay,” you said, smiling.

“Remember who you are and what you believe in,” he said, the same thing he’d been saying to you every day for what felt like your whole life.

“I always do,” you said.

“And I’m always proud of you.”

You kissed him on the cheek and he left, your mom in tow.

You went back upstairs and turned your music up. It felt like a Siouxsie and the Banshees day, so you turned on Juju and got to it, applying dark shadow and liner to your eyes before starting in on your lips.

You got dressed, carefully piecing an outfit together. As far as outfits in the goth community went, you were on the simpler side. A tee shirt and pants — but it was all about accessories. You buckled on a heavy dog collar last, turning around in front of the mirror. Then, you scowled at yourself, playfully pumping yourself up for a day of acting like a badass.

Everywhere you went, people either stared or purposefully didn’t. Some people insulted you, hissing rude words and sending harsh glances your way. But the majority pretended there was nothing different about you. You weren’t sure which was worse — there _was_ something different about you, and it was to be celebrated, not ignored. Just like everyone else.

When History rolled around and you sat down, Mr. Oliver immediately approached your desk.

“I understand your parents called the principal,” he said, looking uncomfortable. You savored his expression, rolling it around in your brain like a piece of candy over your tongue.

“I’m not surprised,” you said coolly.

“As long as you focus, I don’t think we’ll have any more problems,” he said.

“I should remind you that I _was_ focusing. Playing with my piercings helps me get out restless energy that I would otherwise spend doodling, which _would_ be a distraction,” you said.

If there was one thing your parents had taught you about school, it was that to survive, you had to be calm, collected, and intelligent. Not the type of intelligence that got you good grades, necessarily, but the kind that made you understood to others.

“I suppose that makes sense,” he said, still sounding unconvinced.

“It would make sense if you had one.”

“That will never happen, I’m afraid.”

“That’s a shame,” you joked.

Finally, he cracked a smile.

“Let’s agree to disagree.”

Then, he left you alone, going to get his lesson together.

Reggie walked in, and as you saw him, you willed yourself not to blush.

You totally didn’t have a crush on him, already. Nope. Not at all. Absolutely not.

Fuck.

He waved at you, a little thing that you almost missed. You smiled and waved back, and his eyes crinkled in a smile.

He sat down in his usual seat.

You found yourself wishing he would have sat in the empty desk beside yours.

You totally didn’t have a crush on him, already.

Nope. Not at all.

Absolutely not.

_Fuck._

After school, you stalked out to your car, making yourself look scary just for fun. Making yourself look like a big badass was one of your favorite pastimes.

You got in your car, and again, your steering wheel shook in your hands. You swore and pulled a hard right turn, heading for Flusche and Sons.

Before you got there, it happened.

As if in slow motion, your car dipped low, the front bumper scraping on the asphalt. You watched as your front left wheel — the entire wheel — rolled away from you, sweetly rolling across the street up to someone’s truck and stopping there.

Your car grinded to a halt, sparks flying.

“Fuck!” you yelled, slamming the steering wheel with both hands.

You tried to open the driver’s side door, but was met with pavement after only a couple of inches. You crawled over to the other side, pulling yourself from the car and standing on the sidewalk.

There was something so fundamentally wrong about your car with the bumper on the ground.

“Fuck,” you said quietly, beginning to shake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Your hands shook violently as you pulled your phone from your pocket and dialed your dad.

He didn’t pick up.

“Fuck!” you yelled.

Then, you remembered. You dug in your wallet for the business card you’d gotten only yesterday, pulling it out and flipping it over.

You dialed the number on the back.

“’Lo?” came a deep voice from the other end.

“Reggie? Is this Reggie?”

You were struggling to keep your voice level. You weren’t succeeding, not at all.

“Yeah? Who’s this?”

“You — you helped me yesterday. My steering wheel was shaking, and — and, _fuck!_ ”

“Okay, yeah, I remember you. Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“Yeah, my — my steering wheel was shaking again, so I was gonna come to the shop, but then — then, my whole wheel, my whole tire — it just flew off, and I — I just —”

 _“Are you okay?”_ he asked again, his voice firm.

“Yeah, I’m okay. But my car totally isn’t.”

“Okay. As long as you’re okay. We can fix a car. Where are you?”

“Uh —” you looked around. “Near the corner of Elm and Washburn.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon. I’m gonna call a tow truck, too.”

“Okay,” you said, flopping down on the curb. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “’Bye.”

“’Bye.”

You hung up and lit up a cigarette, almost failing to light it properly, the flame shaking with your hand. You chain smoked until he showed up ten minutes later.

“Fuck,” he said, getting out of his car. “You weren’t joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this,” you said, voice hard. Then, you backed down. “I’m sorry, I’m just freaked out.”

“Yeah,” he said. “This — this isn’t just gonna be two little bolts.”

You laughed, frantic.

“Fuck,” you said, gasping, “no, it’s not.”

“Well, okay,” he said, sitting on the curb next to you. “The tow truck should be here in just a minute. We’re lucky Flusche has one.”

“Yeah,” you said weakly.

You held out your cigarettes for him. He looked at the box, then made a dismissive gesture.

“I only smoke menthols when I’m fucked up,” he said.

“Oh,” you said. That was sure something to tell a near stranger.

Then, he seemed to realize something.

“Where’s your wheel?” he asked.

“Across the street. Rolled right across up next to that red truck,” you said, pointing away from you.

“I’ll go get it,” he said.

Then he got up, looking both ways before he crossed the street. He returned, easily holding your entire front left wheel in one arm.

He set it down and sat back down next to you.

You didn’t say anything, not sure what you could say without freaking out again.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder. You leaned into the touch, then stopped yourself, pulling away.

“Thanks,” you said awkwardly.

He took his hand from your shoulder and put it in his lap.

The tow truck showed up a minute later, with Dom driving it. He hopped out, letting out a whoop when he saw the state of your car.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he said. “Damn, darkling, what’d you fucking _do_?”

You sneered at him, drawing your upper lip up to bare your teeth.

Reggie answered for you.

“Nothing. It was us. We didn’t notice that something bigger was wrong,” he snapped.

Dom put his hands up, still grinning at you.

Then, he set to pulling your car up onto the back of the truck. It took about five minutes.

By the time he was done, you weren’t shaking anymore. Reggie had stood by you the entire time.

“We taking this back to the shop, or you got someone else to work on it?” Dom asked.

“Take it,” you said. “I got nothing.”

“Sure. You riding with me or Reg?”

You looked at Reggie, silently asking him what he wanted. He waved you over to his car, that beautiful blue one from yesterday, the one you’d seen around the school parking lot.

You got in, settling yourself into the leather seat. The car smelled like smoke and teenage boy. But you didn’t mind — it was actually kind of comforting, that smell.

Reggie got in, starting it up and following Dom as he drove to the shop.

When all was said and done, it was decided that your car would be Reggie’s job. You were glad — you trusted him, at least with your car.

“You wanna stay here until someone picks you up, or can I take you somewhere?” he asked you.

“Well,” you said, thinking. “I guess you can take me to my parents’ thrift shop. You know Lucky Find?”

“That the new place on the square?” he asked, scratching his chin. There was stubble already growing in.

You smiled. “Yeah, that’s us.”

“Well, okay. C’mon.”

He drove you there, parking and getting out to open your door for you.

You smiled, blushing a little bit.

You were totally screwed.

“I can do that, you know,” you said.

“I know. But you had a hard day,” he said, shrugging.

You led him into the shop, your dad’s eyes immediately finding you.

“Hey, sweet bean,” he said, eyes going to Reggie. “Who’s your friend?”

“Dad, this is Reggie. He worked on my car yesterday. Reggie, this is my dad.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” said Reggie, holding out a hand.

Your dad shook it, a little chagrined. He was a hugger, but he’d shake hands if he had to.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” your dad asked as your mom came out of the back room to stand beside him.

“Well — my car. It kinda fell apart,” you said, putting a hand on the back of your neck.

“Oh, sweetie, are you okay?” your mom asked, a hand shooting up to her mouth.

“I’m fine, Mom. I promise. Reggie totally came and rescued me, though,” you said.

Your mom and dad shared a look.

“Well,” your dad said. “How can we repay you?”

“It was nothing, sir. I’m just glad I got the call.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t pick up, starchild,” your mom said. “We’ve been so busy today — hi, how can I help you?”

She wandered off to properly greet a new customer. You looked over your shoulder, finding a bleach blonde boy you’d seen hanging out with Patrick and Reggie yesterday.

“Hey, man,” he said, coming up to Reggie, ignoring your mom. “Saw your car out front. What’s up?”

“Nothing. You?”

You bristled a little bit at being referred to as _nothing_.

“He gave me a ride,” you said.

“Oh, huh,” said the boy. “I’m Vic, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said, glancing at your dad. His eyebrows were up. You’d never pulled in so many normal looking people before. “I’m —”

“I know who you are,” he said, without explaining how.

“Oh,” you said. “Well.”

“Listen, man,” he said, turning to Reggie. “You going to work today?”

“Yeah. In a minute.”

“Damn. I was hoping you’d skip out and hang with us.”

“You know I can’t just do that.”

“Yeah. Whatever. I’ll see you later, then?”

“Later.”

Vic left the shop without so much as another glance at you, your parents, or even the wares hanging all around him.

You huffed.

“Sorry about that,” said Reggie. “He’s got a one-track mind sometimes.”

“It’s okay. You should get going.”

“Yeah. Thanks for calling me.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow how long I think it’s gonna take us to fix your car, okay?”

“Okay.”

Then, he left, waving to your mom as he walked out the door.

She practically skipped back to where you were, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you into the back room, setting you down at a table where a lot of black clothes were piled up. You set to picking through the pile, pushing some pieces aside and putting others in your lap, interested.

“Is that the one? The boy you were all smiley about yesterday?” she asked.

“Mom. It’s nothing,” you said.

But still, you smiled.

“That face doesn’t say it’s nothing,” she said. “He’s cute!”

“Well, yeah. I guess he is.”

“You’re going to fall in love with him. I can just tell,” she said, sighing.

“Mom. I’m totally not gonna fall in love. Not right now.”

You didn’t say it, but you didn’t need to, not to her. You weren’t going to fall in love, not so soon after Julian.

She sighed again.

“If he can work with cars, just imagine.”

“Imagine what?” you asked.

“Just — _imagine_.”

You gasped. “ _Mom!_ Mother of god, will you chill?”

She laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll chill. But he looks very nice, and even if he’s just going to be your friend, I hope he’s good to you.”

You smiled, holding up a perfect pair of black, skinny legged, cargo pants.

“I hope so, too.”


	3. three

You were woken up the next morning by your phone ringing. You picked it up, bleary eyed, to check the caller ID.

It was Julian.

Julian, your ex.

You let it ring until it was done, refusing to pick up or even decline the call. Then, you pulled your covers up until they were over your head and dozed until someone knocked on your door.

“Hey, sweet bean!” your dad called through the door.

“Ugh, come in,” you groaned, pushing the covers down.

He was surprised to see you still in bed. He put down your breakfast and sat on the edge of your bed.

“He called again, didn’t he?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, kiddo. Why don’t you just block his number?”

“We’ve talked about this, dad. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s bothering me.”

“Bean, he knows he’s bothering you. He’s not stupid. He knows.”

You sighed, then picked up your phone, flipping through the contacts and staring at Julian’s.

“You really think I should?” you asked, voice small.

“If you don’t want to, I’ll do it for you. But I think you should. Be brave.”

You smiled, then took a deep breath, and blocked Julian’s number.

No more calls. No more texts. No more rambling voicemails about how he still loved you and knew what was best for you — and what was best for you was him.

You sighed, and your dad leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“Now, get up, sweet bean. It’s time to start the day.”

“Okay, dad. Okay.”

You got dressed in a hurry. As you were putting on your usual makeup — with a slightly colorful twist — your phone rang again. You looked at it in horror, then eased up when you recognized the number.

It was Reggie.

You picked it up.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“Just realized that you don’t have a car right now. If you want, I can pick you up.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, forcing the smile from your face.

Oh, you definitely had a crush.

Shit.

“No, that’s okay. I mean, maybe some other time. My parents want to drive me.”

“Oh, okay.” He sounded a little disappointed. “Maybe some other time.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, okay. I’ll see you later, then.”

“’Kay. ‘Bye.”

“’Bye.”

You hung up and turned away from the mirror, pulling your boots on.

Despite how unready you were for something new after everything fell apart with Julian, you were glad to have Reggie. At least for the smiles. At least for the crinkles at the corner of his eyes. At least for how nice he was being to you for no reason.

You deserved a little niceness.

You gathered your things and went downstairs. Your mom was in the kitchen, doing her morning stretches, bent over with both of her hands flat on the floor.

“There’s my kid,” she said, sighing. “I heard a very rude boy gave you a call this morning.”

“Yup.”

“And I heard you blocked his number.”

“Again, yup.”

She stood up and pulled you into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said into the cloud of your teased-up hair.

“Thanks, Mom. But guess what?”

“What?” she asked, pulling back and reaching both hands towards the ceiling, slowly rolling her shoulders.

“Just a minute ago, Reggie called.”

“Oh? What for?”

“To see if I needed a ride to school. I turned him down.”

She playfully swatted you on the shoulder, scowling.

“You turned down a cute boy to ride around with your parents?”

“Mom, I barely know him, cute or not.”

She laughed, then suddenly grew sober.

“Well.” She paused, and you knew she was thinking of Julian, how things had started so nice with him, how he’d seemed so perfect. “Be smart.”

“I always am,” you said.

“Yeah, you are,” said your dad, mussing your hair further as he walked past. “We ready?”

You smiled. “Let’s go.”

They dropped you off, half an hour earlier than you usually graced the school with your presence. You kissed them both goodbye, your mom swearing she’d come pick you up when the day was done.

You went around to the side of the building to smoke, and found it already populated with Reggie and his friends.

A cigarette in your mouth, you said, “Hey, Reggie.”

“Who the fuck,” said Henry, “is Reggie?”

You looked at all of them, sure it was a joke.

“What?” you asked, looking at Reggie. “What am I missing?”

“Uh, no one really calls me that outside of work,” said Reggie, scratching the back of his neck, avoiding your eye.

“We call him Belch,” said Patrick, flipping a silver lighter over and over in one hand.

“Belch,” you said slowly, trying it out. What an awful nickname. “Why?”

Without a word of warning, Reggie — _Belch_ — burped, a long, drawn out thing. When it was finished, Henry clapped him on the shoulder and Vic let out a whoop.

You looked on, eyes wide. This had to be a really involved joke.

“Seriously?” you asked.

“Yeah,” said _Belch_.

He looked honest, and you guessed you’d have to get used to calling him that.

Belch.

Huh.

“Well, okay,” you said.

“So, how do you know our dear, sweet Belch?” asked Patrick, positively leering at you.

“Uh,” you said. You took a drag to stall for time. Belch didn’t come to your rescue. “He’s working on my car.”

“You the one with the tire that just came off?” asked Henry.

“Yup. That’d be me,” you said.

“Fuck. Musta been something to see,” he said. He was grinning, all teeth, no humor.

“Yeah. I guess.”

You dropped your cigarette butt and stepped on it, then turned to walk away.

“Wait,” said Belch.

You looked over your shoulder at him.

“Your car should be ready by Saturday. We’re having to make a whole new mount for your tire. But it should be ready.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

Then, you really walked away. You heard the guys teasing Belch, for what, you didn’t know.

You could guess. You could. But you left it alone, not ready to think about it.

That day, there were whispers of a party on Friday. Some of the football guys were throwing a rager, no parents around until Sunday, so plenty of time to clean up after a wild party.

You made a note to go. You weren’t invited, but who cared? Half the people who would be there probably weren’t.

Besides, you heard there was going to be a guy selling weed. It had been a while since you last got high, and you had some extra money laying around, as if it had been waiting for this.

Your mom picked you up and dropped you back off at home at the end of the school day. She asked you to do a few chores, and you got right to them, blasting She Wants Revenge as you did.

Then, you went upstairs, hoping Raven would be online.

She was.

 _Hey fuckface,_ you typed.

**What’s up, bitch?**

_Nothing much. Car fucked up again. It’s in the shop for real now_

**Fuck. What about cute guy?**

_He’s the one working on it._

**NICE**

_Right? And listen, apparently everyone actually calls him belch. As in burp_

**Oh gross. Who the fuck goes along with that?**

_Cute guy apparently_

**Yeah. Weird**

After you finished talking to her, you set to putting outfits together, based on the new stuff you’d gotten from your parents’ shop yesterday. There was this one drapey vest you were dying to try out, would probably wear it tomorrow.

When your parents got home, you filled them in on your car, but left out Belch’s nickname. You didn’t see the point of telling them something so embarrassing.

When you went to bed, you thought of him again, looking up at the fairy lights tacked to your wall.

You definitely had a crush. Definitely.

When Friday rolled around, you got ready for the party. You wore that drapey vest thing and a shirt that had ruffles on it. It was more overtly feminine than you usually dressed, but you were still pleased with it.

Your mom came in as you were pinning your hair up into a fake mohawk.

“Oh, I _love_ it when you do that,” she said.

“Yeah?” you asked, smiling.

For someone so definitely different from you, she and your dad were the damn most supportive parents you could ever have asked for.

You slipped one last pin into your hair and stood to hug her.

“You going out?” she asked.

“Yeah. There’s a party a few blocks away.”

“Oh, good,” she said. “You’ll be walking, I assume?”

“Yeah. Gotta get exercise somehow.”

“Well. I know you’ll be smart, but don’t drink too much, okay starchild?”

“I won’t. You know me.”

“I do.”

She hugged you again and sent you on your way.

You arrived at the party when it was in full swing. You went in and got yourself a drink, then two more, quickly downing something strong. Something that had coconut rum in it, god bless.

You sat in a corner, people watching. Who was making out with who, who was obviously hoping to get laid.

After an hour or two — who was keeping track? — you trailed your way around the house, looking for a bathroom.

You didn’t realize you were being followed, at least not until you exited the bathroom.

There were three guys, grouped around the bathroom door, barricading you in.

“Uh, hey,” you said, unease setting in.

“Hey there, baby,” one said, grinning.

He reminded you of a big cat, closing in on its prey. You hoped for a moment that it was just because you were drunk, that thought.

It wasn’t.

The one on the left put his hand on the doorjamb, blocking your exit.

“I’m not your baby,” you said, trying to keep your voice level.

“No,” said the guy in the middle. “But you’re gonna be our little bitch. Isn’t that right, guys?”

Your stomach grew tight as you frantically looked for an exit.

The guy who’d just spoken took a few steps toward you, walking into the bathroom and fully cornering you.

“What I wanna know,” he said, “is if goths are as freaky as they look.”

“Fuck you,” you spat.

Your breathing was growing frantic, little gasps. The other two guys walked into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind them.

Then, the one in the middle, the one who’d been doing all the talking, put a hand around your throat, pushing up your chin and forcing you to look at him.

“I wanna know,” he said. “And I’m gonna find out.”

The bathroom door, blessedly unlocked, slammed open.

“I don’t fucking think so, assholes,” said a voice.

You looked between the guys in front of you to find Belch in the doorway, a terrifying look on his face.

“Fuck off, man. This isn’t your business,” one of the guys said.

“Yeah, it is. Keep going, see how bad I can fuckin’ hurt you,” Belch said.

Then, he held out a hand to you.

“C’mon,” he said.

You pushed past the three guys and took his hand, letting him pull you away from them, out of the worst situation you’d been in in a while.

He led you downstairs into the kitchen, which was mostly empty. There was a couple of girls looking like they were about an inch away from finally kissing, but besides them, it was just you and Belch.

“Thanks,” you said weakly.

It wasn’t good enough, that one word, but. It would have to do.

“It was nothing,” he said. He still looked horribly angry.

You swallowed, hard. “No. It wasn’t.”

He rubbed a hand down his face. Then, his expression softened.

“No,” he said. “I guess it wasn’t.”

He got a plastic cup and filled it with water, then handed it to you.

You took it, hands shaking. Your voice, when you spoke, matched them.

“Fuck,” you said. “I wanna smoke.”

He took a deep breath.

“C’mon,” he said, ushering you towards the back door.

When you were both outside, you caught sight of his friends.

Patrick looked like he was about to say something, but Belch beat him to it.

“Whatever shit you’re gonna say, Hockstetter, can it.”

Patrick scowled.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

You lit up a cigarette, wearily surveying the people out there, the stoners and smokers. These were your people, not the ones inside. Not the ones dancing or making out. These ones, the ones just sitting around and chilling out. These were the people you should have been with all night.

You wandered over to the guy who was obviously selling, having just rolled a joint for one of your classmates.

“Hey,” you said, voice still a little bit weak.

“Hey yourself,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if I could buy a joint or two off you.”

“Well, which is it?” he asked. “A joint, or two?”

“Two,” you said, sighing. You needed to calm the fuck down.

“Okay,” he said. He got to rolling them, talking as he did, his voice calm and collected. “So, how’s the night going for you?”

“Terrible,” you said. Then you kicked yourself for your honesty. Not everyone needed to know about it.

He looked over your shoulder to where Belch was still watching you like a hawk.

“Those guys bothering you?” the guy asked, nodding at Belch and the guys.

You looked back, your expression soft.

“No,” you said. “Not them.”

“Ah. Not them.” He leaned in. “Tell me who. I won’t sell to them.”

“Three guys. Big and tall. Look like a matching set.”

“Mm. I’m Josh, by the way.”

You smiled at him.

“I bet you know who I am,” you said.

“The only goth in school? You bet I know who you are.”

You smiled wider.

“Good.”

He handed you the joints, taking your money from you.

“You ever need anything, you can ask for it. I’ll see what I can do,” he said.

You turned away from him after thanking him, going back to Belch and the guys.

“Well, guys, it’s been real. But it hasn’t been fun,” you said. “I’m going home.”

“You need a ride,” said Belch.

“No, I can walk. It’s only a few blocks.”

“That wasn’t a question,” he said. “I’m giving you a ride. I don’t want you to be followed.”

You looked at the ground.

“Okay,” you said, voice small.

“C’mon,” he said. He guided you, his hand hovering over the small of your back, back through the house and out to where his car was parked.

You got in, sinking into the seat. He followed you, turning down the Metallica that blared when he started it up.

“You shouldn’t ever go to a party alone,” he said. “I know you’re new here, so you didn’t know about those guys, but still.”

You sighed.

“Used to do things alone all the time,” you said. “I’m used to it.”

He sighed, too.

“How do I get to your place?”

“Two streets that way, take a right, then a left. I’m the third house on the right.”

“’Kay.”

You rode in silence, making a small noise when you got to your house to let him know it was the right one.

All the lights were off — your parents, always early to bed, were probably already asleep.

You leaned into him for a second, then stopped yourself, cheeks burning.

You were about to kiss him on the cheek, something you always did for your parents when they dropped you off.

“You, uh,” you said. “You wanna come in?”

“Uh,” he said.

“I — we can get high?” you suggested. “At least a little bit. Calm down some?”

He looked at you, as if silently asking if that’s what you really wanted.

“Sure,” he said slowly. “If you want to.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I do.”

“Okay.”

You led him into your house, using the key you kept on a chain around your neck to open the door. You ushered him out the back door, going to the porch, where a swing waited, empty. You sat down and he mirrored you, your backs up against the arms of the swing, facing each other.

You lit up the joint, taking two puffs and handing it to him.

After ten minutes, you were feeling much better.

“Thank you,” you said again.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“Really,” you said.

“Really, it’s okay. I like watching out for people.”

You looked down at your hands, a little disappointed that it wasn’t you, specifically, he was watching out for.

“Besides,” he said. “You don’t have anyone to watch out for you. I can do that, if you want.”

You blushed, hoping he would chalk it up to the weed, this little display of emotion.

“Yeah,” you said.

You wanted that. You wanted him to have your back.

“Something I’ve been wondering,” he said. “Why’dyou dress like that?”

“Oh,” you said. “I like it. I like everything dark and mysterious and spooky. Plus, I look good in black lipstick.”

He laughed, and you smiled, cherishing the sound.

“Makes sense,” he said. “You’re the first goth I think I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I usually am, for people.”

“Your parents aren’t like you,” he said.

“No. My parents are hippies.”

He laughed again.

“What a family.”

You grinned.

“Yeah.” Then, you paused. “You wanna hear something silly?”

“Shoot.”

“I almost kissed you on the cheek, earlier,” you said.

He let out a little huff, smiling. “Why?”

“To say thanks for driving me, I guess. I always kiss my parents when they do.”

He smiled wider.

“Huh,” he said. Then, he thought for a second. “I wouldn’t have said no.”

Your stomach seized. You controlled your face, just letting out a small smile.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

He stood, handing you the joint. You put it out and stood with him.

“I gotta get back,” he said. “I’m driving the guys.”

“Yeah,” you said.

You were sad to see him go so soon.

“Thanks for sharing your weed,” he said.

“Anytime.”

You led him back through your house, standing on the front step with him.

He looked at you, a strange look on his face.

“Can I —” he started, then thought better of it, his mouth snapping closed.

“What?” you asked.

“Forget about it.”

“No. What were you going to say?”

He looked at his feet.

“Can I get that kiss?” he asked, voice soft.

You smiled. Then, you got up on your toes to kiss him gently on the cheek.

He smiled, too.

“’Bye,” he said.

“’Bye.”

You watched him get in his car and drive away, a huge smile on your face.


	4. four

The next afternoon, you woke with a headache to your phone ringing.

It was Belch.

“Hello?” you croaked.

“Hey, you,” he said. You could hear him smiling.

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Your car’s ready.”

You sighed and rolled over onto your back, staring at the ceiling.

“Awesome,” you said.

“Yeah. Took some doing, but it’s fine.”

“Cool.”

Suddenly, you remembered the kiss. Your face flushed, and you hoped he wouldn’t bring it up. You weren’t sure if your heart could take it.

“You okay?” he asked. “No offense, but you sound like shit.”

“Hungover,” you groaned. “I was stupid and didn’t drink any water last night.”

Your mom called up the stairs to you. You couldn’t catch what she was saying, so you pulled the phone away from your ear.

“What?” you yelled.

“Pancakes,” she said. Now, she was standing at your bedroom door, peeking in. “Who you talking to?”

You put your hand over the mouthpiece of the phone.

“Cute boy,” you said.

“Ooh. Invite him over. We want to say thank you. Pancakes work for that, don’t they?”

You smiled.

“Sure,” you said. Then, you shooed her away.

“What was that?” Belch asked when you put the phone back to your ear.

“What was what?” you asked.

“You called me cute?”

You covered your eyes with one hand. Fuck.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” you groaned.

“You think I’m cute?”

You blushed.

“Yeah…”

“Cool. I think you’re cute, too.”

You grinned. “Okay.” Then you paused. “You doing anything right now?”

“No. I just got off work, since I finished your car.”

“Cool. You wanna come over? My parents are making pancakes. And they want to say thanks for fixing my car.”

“They really don’t have to,” he said.

“No, I know. But you know.”

“Well, I guess I can stop by. The guys and I are meeting up in an hour, so I can’t stay long.”

“That’s fine. Just come and eat, it doesn’t matter how long you stay.”

“’Kay. I’ll be there soon.”

You hung up and flung yourself out of bed, looking in the mirror. You were a fucking mess. You had the vestiges of last night’s makeup still on, and your hair was still pinned up. You decided to leave your hair, fix it a little bit, but god knew that if you tried to take it down, it would be a mess.

You got dressed and took your makeup off. You figured that you’d just leave it bare like that, at least for right now. Besides, your lipstick would just come right off while you were eating, so what was the point?

The doorbell rang, and you ran down the stairs, barefoot. You were just wearing a big tee shirt and pants, and you met your mom at the door. You gestured to yourself, silently asking her how you looked. She gave you a thumbs-up.

You opened the door with a smile. Belch was standing there with his back turned, and he turned around to see you. When he did, he grinned.

“Hey,” he said.

“Reggie,” your mom said. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

You had to check yourself and remember that to your parents, he was just Reggie.

“Same to you, ma’am.”

“Well, come in,” you said.

You led him into the house, into the breakfast nook. You pushed him down into the corner of the nook, your mom putting a plate in front of him. Your dad came over with a frying pan and spatula in hand, putting a pancake on Belch’s plate.

“I’ll be back with another in just a second,” he said.

You sat next to Belch, starting in on your own pancakes, trying not to loo at him too much. Not as much as you wanted to, at least.

He had a small cut over one of his eyes. You looked at his hands, and the knuckles were red and sore, one of them bearing a cut, the others scraped.

Your mom got up to help your dad and you leaned into him.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Huh?”

“You look a little rough. What happened?”

“Oh, that. Don’t worry about it.”

“I decide what I worry about,” you said. “What happened?”

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

“Belch,” you said. He seemed unshaken, holding your eye. “ _Reggie_.”

He blushed and looked at his plate.

“Just took care of those guys who were bothering you,” he said.

“Oh,” you said. “ _Oh_. Fuck.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “The guys helped me out, wasn’t like it was me against three.”

“They did?”

You couldn’t imagine any of the other guys helping out with something like that. They were bullies, too.

That was something you didn’t like to think about when it came to Belch. He was part of a gang of bullies that had the school on its knees.

“Yeah. We may not be good guys, but we can’t stand guys like _that_.”

“Guys like what?” asked your dad, walking back in with another pancake for Belch.

“Uh,” you said.

You looked at Belch, wondering how much of the truth you should go with.

He answered for you.

“Guys who don’t take no for an answer,” he said. “Three guys cornered someone at the party last night. Me and my guys took care of it.”

“Hm,” said your mom. She sat down. “So that’s why you look a little roughed up today.”

“Mom.”

“I’m allowed to make observations,” she said, cutting into her own pancakes with the side of her fork.

“ _Mom_.”

“If we don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to,” said your dad, always afraid of confrontation.

“I’d like it if we didn’t, sir,” said Belch.

“Well, okay,” your dad said, putting another pancake on Belch’s plate.

“So, what are you doing today, Reggie? Work?” your mom asked.

“No, ma’am. I’m hanging out with my boys today. Actually,” he said, turning to you, “I was wondering if you wanted to come along.”

You blushed.

“What would we be doing?” you asked, playing with your food and pretending to not be that interested.

“Mostly just messing around. Might go back to Henry’s house if his dad’s not around.”

“Henry?” your mom asked. “Which one is he? The bottle blonde I met the other day?”

“No, ma’am. That’s Vic. Henry is Officer Bowers’ son.”

“Ah,” said your dad. He shot you a look that told you exactly what he thought of Officer Bowers.

They’d had a brief run-in over a rolled stop sign. Your dad was a lover, not a fighter, so he would never be a fan of the police.

“Who else will be there?” your mom asked. “Henry, Vic, you?”

“And Patrick. Hockstetter.”

“Hm.”

Neither of your parents had heard of him, and you were glad. It wasn’t like they’d stop you if they had — they always let you make your own decisions — but still. To go anywhere with a boy like that was asking for trouble.

Today, you felt like a little trouble would be okay.

“When can we go?” you asked.

“Just as soon as you’re ready,” he said.

“Okay.”

You both finished your pancakes and you led him upstairs to your room. You wished it wasn’t so messy, but he didn’t seem to mind. You were glad — having someone else in your room was intimate, vulnerable.

You sat in front of your mirror and started putting your makeup on.

“You wear makeup every day?” he asked.

“Yeah. Unless I’m staying at home,” you said.

“Huh. I like — I like your face without it,” he said. “Not that you look bad with it, but. You know.”

You smiled, watching him in the mirror.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

He smiled, then went to looking at your music collection.

You finished your face quickly, then grabbed a jacket and shoved your cigarettes and the second joint from last night into the pockets.

“Ready?” you asked.

“If you are.”

“Let’s go, then.”

You went out to your car, saying goodbye to your parents as you went. Then, you climbed in the passenger seat. Belch pulled away from the curb, nodding his head to the hard rock coming out of the stereo.

“Metallica,” you said.

“Mm. You like them?”

“Enough. They’re not my favorite, but they’re okay.”

You were quiet for the next part of the ride, until you stopped to pick up Vic.

“Hey there, stranger,” he said.

You went to give him your seat, and Belch made a noise telling you to stay where you were. Vic lifted himself through the window into the back seat.

Then, you were off again, heading to someone else’s house. You drove through a nice residential street, pulling up to a beautiful house. Henry and Patrick were waiting outside.

“Hey, you,” said Patrick, grinning at you like he wanted to take a bite out of you.

He lifted himself into the back, too.

“Move,” said Henry.

You looked at him, then at Belch.

“Guest gets the front seat, Henry,” he said.

“Since _when_?”

“Since it’s my car. Get in the back.”

“Bullshit. I always sit in the front.”

“Not today. Now do it.”

Letting out a short growl, Henry climbed into the back seat, forcing Vic to sit in the middle.

“We have an interloper in our midst, boys,” said Patrick. You looked back at him. That same terrifying smile was on his face. “What should we do about it?”

“Nothing, not if you want me to share my weed,” you shot back before Belch could say anything.

Belch clapped his hand on your knee, letting it rest there for just a second before he pulled it back, putting it on the steering wheel.

You forced yourself not to react. It was probably nothing.

It didn’t feel like nothing, but you could make yourself think that.

“You drive a hard bargain, pretty little thing,” Patrick cooed. “I like your style.”

“You call me that again, and you don’t get any,” you said coolly.

He snorted.

“I mean it.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Henry, your dad still on duty?” asked Belch.

“Yeah. Fuckin’ asshole’s out until eleven.”

“Should we go to your place?”

“Sure.”

You drove out to the outskirts of town, over hills and around bends that you hadn’t yet taken time to explore. You ended up at an old farmhouse with a mailbox reading BOWERS.

So, this was his place. Huh.

You all got out of the car, Henry bitching about having to sit in the back. Then, you went inside. Henry walked into what you assumed was his bedroom and came back with a bottle of whiskey, three quarters full.

“C’mon,” he said, beckoning for your benefit.

You followed the gang out to a barn that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. There was a ladder leading up to a hay loft, and Patrick gave a theatrical bow, his hand out to it.

“After you, sweet cheeks.”

“Patrick,” said Belch sharply.

You climbed the ladder, pretending you couldn’t hear them whispering to each other.

“You either make your move or I will,” Patrick hissed.

“Maybe I want to take my fuckin’ time, asshole.”

“Don’t take too long.”

You got to the hay loft and settled yourself up against the wall. The guys followed you, settling around you. Belch sat right next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. You took out your joint and started digging around for a lighter. You’d forgotten to bring yours, it seemed.

“Got a light?” you asked Patrick. You remembered his lighter vividly from just the other day.

“For you, baby? Anything,” he said, holding out his lighter, the flame flicked on.

“Call me that again,” you said. “See where it gets you.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m dying to see.”

You lit up the end of the joint. Then, you exhaled.

“You know where it’d get you?”

“ _Please_ tell me.”

“A fuckload of nowhere.”

He laughed, delighted. He thought you were playing coy with him, but you couldn’t be less interested in someone.

Not with Belch sitting right next to you, your lips on his cheek the only thing your body could seem to remember.

“I’m not joking, Patrick,” you said, passing the joint to Belch.

Patrick took the bottle of whiskey from Henry, taking a swig and handing it back.

“Who cares if you are or aren’t?” he asked, shaking his head.

You just looked at him. Then you shrugged. Indifference might do you better than protesting too much.

The joint got passed around, and the whiskey, and in fifteen minutes, everyone was gently fucked up.

You sighed and laid your head up against Belch’s upper arm. He huffed and looked down at you.

“Feel good?” he asked.

“Much better. ‘Specially now I know those guys got what was coming to them,” you said.

You were still a little bit scared of how wrong your night could have gone. How bad of a turn it could have taken.

“Oh, those pussies,” snorted Henry. “Useless. Begged us to stop.”

“Still can’t believe how much that blonde one bled,” said Vic, gloating. He was probably the one to make him bleed, then.

“Thanks, guys,” you said.

You looked at your hands, picked at your nail polish, a deep purple.

“I told you, it was nothing,” said Belch.

“It wasn’t nothing.”

He shrugged, your head moving with his shoulder.

You shrugged, too, bumping his arm with yours. He smiled down at you.

You held your hand out for the whiskey and took a swig. Then, you laid down, putting your legs in Belch’s lap. He let out a quiet laugh.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Fuck yeah. Slept like a fucking baby, but not long enough.”

“Didn’t I wake you up when I called?”

Vic shot Henry a _look_. Henry returned it.

“Yeah. But still. I need like, thirteen hours of sleep after I drink.”

He laughed. Then, he lightly touched one of your shoes.

“What do you call these?” he asked.

You actually had to look down at your shoes to remember what you were wearing.

“Uh, winklepickers,” you said.

Henry laughed, long and hard.

“That’s so stupid,” he gasped. “Fuck.”

You chuckled. “I know. But whatever. I like them anyway.”

“I gotta question,” said Patrick.

You groaned, rolling your eyes until they fell on him.

“What is it this time?” you asked.

He grabbed the middle section of his nose and pulled on it.

“Anyone ever put a chain on that and lead you around?” he asked.

You reached up and touched your septum ring.

“I’d kill anyone before it ever got to that,” you said. “It’d hurt like hell.”

“Still healing?”

“Septums are always still healing.”

“Huh.”

“I’m serious. I’ve had this for… a year? I took it out last week to give it a good cleaning and I almost couldn’t get it back in.”

He gave you a lascivious grin.

You groaned. “Whatever you’re gonna say, shut it.”

“Sure thing, baby.”

“Patrick,” said Belch again, sharply.

“Yeah, Patrick,” you said. “Cut that shit out. I’m not your fucking baby.”

As soon as you said it, you remembered those guys from last night. You’d said the same thing to them.

“Fuck,” you groaned.

“What?” asked Belch.

You looked at him, and his eyebrows were drawn together.  

“I just have to keep telling guys I’m not their baby,” you explained. You sounded miserable, because you kinda were.

“Fuck,” said Vic. “Those guys called you that, didn’t they?”

“Yeah.”

He hit Patrick. Patrick hit him back.

“Fuck you, Vic. It’s not my fault. Not like I knew.”

“Not like you’ll stop, either,” said Vic.

“Got that right.”

But he didn’t do it again, at least not where you could hear it.

With the joint smoked down and the sun slowly setting, you stretched and sat up.

“I should probably get back,” you said. “Got laundry to do.”

Vic laughed.

“How many loads of black does it take?”

“Oh _god_ ,” you said. “Just imagine me trying to find one specific thing in a heap of everything. It’s a fucking nightmare.”

“Well, c’mon,” said Belch. He got to his feet and pulled you up with him, easily lifting you by one arm. “I’ll take you to your car.”

“Oh, nice, I forgot it’s ready.”

As you were climbing down the ladder, you saw Vic lean in and whisper something in Patrick’s ear. You didn’t catch what it was, but you would bet your right arm it was about you.

You walked back to Belch’s car, a little bit fucked and very sleepy.

When you got in, you put a cigarette in your mouth.

“You mind?” you asked around it.

“Nah, go for it.”

You used the cigarette lighter the car had and lit up. You took a drag, slow and even.

“Sorry about Patrick,” he said.

“Me too,” you said.

“What are you sorry about? He’s an asshole, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either.”

He grunted, but didn’t verbally disagree.

You rode in silence. When you got to the shop, your car was waiting on you. It looked cleaner than it had been before.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Did you — did you wash my car?”

He blushed.

“I took it through a car wash for you,” he said. “It was all covered in pollen.”

You laughed. It was true enough — your car had been covered in green dust for weeks.

“Well, thank you.”

“No problem.”

You got out of his car, running a hand over the trunk of your own. She looked so much better than you remembered her.

God, but you loved your car.

“Hey,” you said. “I was wondering. I’m going to this show tomorrow. This band’s kinda local, and ever since we moved here I’ve wanted to see them. You wanna go with me?”

Truth was, you hadn’t moved far. Just from Portland. But the band was from Etna, and you were dying to finally see them.

“Don’t wanna go alone?”

You flushed, thinking again about last night.

“I just wanna go with you,” you said. You avoided his eye.

“Well, sure. I can go with you. When should I pick you up?”

You smiled. “Nine?”

“Sure.” Then, he paused. “Is it a date?”

You finally looked at him. He was purely curious.

“Do you want it to be?” you asked.

“Kinda. But if you want it to just be friendly, I understand.”

Your smile grew wider.

“It can be a date.”

“Cool.”

Then, you got on your toes again and kissed him on the cheek. It left a little black mark, and you wiped it away with your thumb, chuckling. He smiled.

“Thanks for inviting me today,” you said, one hand on his chest.

“Well. I wanted you to officially meet the guys.”

“They mean a lot to you.”

“Yeah, I guess. They’re assholes, but I like ‘em.”

“They are. But I can see the appeal.” You paused. “Well. ‘Bye.”

“’Bye.”

He watched you get in the car and drive away. A gentle smile played on your lips as you did.

You had a date. A date with a super cute boy. And you were excited. Not scared.

Not scared at all, not about him.


	5. five

You woke up bright and early on Sunday morning, and slipped into your parents’ room. Then, you got in bed beside your mom.

“Mom,” you whispered.

She rolled over to face you.

“Yes, starchild? What’s going on?”

“I have a date tonight!”

You hadn’t told them last night as things were wrapping up yesterday, you doing laundry and them unwinding after a long day at the shop. It had still been so fresh, so new and sweet that you’d wanted to keep it to yourself.

“With who? Reggie, I hope.”

“Yeah, with him. We’re gonna see Six Ravens in Etna.”

“Oh, that’s great, honey.”

“Yeah. I’ll let you sleep. You want me to put the coffee on?”

“Please,” grunted your dad.

You hadn’t realized that you woke him up, too. You giggled.

“Sorry,” you said, slipping out of their bed.

“No, don’t be. We’re excited for you,” he said waving as you went.

You put the coffee on and started playing the playlist you were working on to give Belch. It was full of your favorites, but Friday I’m In Love was on it. You hoped that wouldn’t be too forward, but you loved that song.

You danced around, singing along to one song by She Wants Revenge.

 _You give a little love and_  
It comes right back  
Like the best you’ve had

Your mom joined you in a minute, dancing with you, taking your hands and spinning you around. You laughed, feeling like you were on top of the world.

You had a date. With a really nice, really cute boy. A cute boy who’d already fought for you, a boy who’d already protected you. A boy who respected your boundaries.

God, he was already miles better than Julian.

When the song ended, you and your mom got your cups of coffee and sat down in the breakfast nook, your feet going in her lap.

“I’m really excited,” you said. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“I think he’s wonderful, sweet child. I think he’s great. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he seems to think the world of you.”

You smiled.

“He does?”

“He invited you to hang out with his friends. That’s a ringing endorsement if I’ve ever seen one from a teenage boy.”

You sighed, looking down at your coffee.

“I’m a little nervous, too.”

“Oh?”

“What if it’s too good to be true?”

“Oh, honey. I don’t think it is. I really, really don’t.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got one of my gut feelings about this boy. He’s good, honey.”

You took in a deep breath. She’d had one of those feelings before about your love life. It had been about Julian, about how you needed to run as fast and as far away as you could.

You hadn’t listened then. You’d listen, now.

“Okay,” you said. “Okay.”

You spent the day slowly getting ready, taking a long shower and ironing your clothes.

When Belch showed up, you were ready.

He looked you up and down, his eyebrows together.

“Nice,” he said.

“Thanks.”

You were wearing a suit, something that you only took out on special occasions. With it was a tie with skulls on it and your hair in the usual ratted cloud.

“But now…” he said, “Am I dressed right?”

You laughed and took him by the hand, pulling him toward his car.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a house show. I just wanted to be a little fancy.”

“Well, you look great. I really like it.”

You blushed.

“Thanks.”

When you both got in the car, you kissed him on the cheek. You pulled back and turned his face so you could check for lipstick marks. None. Thank god.

“Perfect,” you said.

“Mm?”

“I used this thing that’s supposed to make your lipstick not come off on anything,” you said. “It worked.”

“Oh,” he said.

He glanced down at your mouth. He looked like he intended on kissing you sometime tonight. You wouldn’t say no to that, in fact, you’d counted on it.

“Well, let’s go. I have the directions right here,” you said, holding up your phone.

You told him where to go, getting there in twenty minutes and getting a decent parking spot.

You took a deep breath when he parked.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Yeah. Stick by me, okay?”

You looked at him, and his expression was so soft, you wanted to kiss him right then and there.

You didn’t.

You got out of the car and took his hand as you walked into the house, music already pouring out of the open doors.

There was a group opening for Six Ravens, so you didn’t mind missing them as you got you and Belch a drink. They were a punk band from two towns away, apparently, and they weren’t half bad. They drew a punk crowd of kids a little younger than you, and you were glad to see them. You liked punks, though the scene wasn’t for you.

You went out and had a cigarette, leaning up against the back of the house next to him, talking about nothing.

When the house fell silent inside, you went back in, waiting on Six Ravens to get set up.

Once they did, and started playing, you looked at Belch, wondering what he thought. You loved their stuff — it was dark and broody, but also dry and a little funny.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“Mm. I like the bass,” he said. “Solid bassline can make or break this stuff. They’re a little rough, but they got potential.”

You beamed. That’s exactly what you thought.

Half an hour later, you looked over his shoulder and felt like someone had just dropped a bucket of ice water over your head.

Julian.

He was here.

“Fuck,” you spat. “Put your arm around me — _now_.”

Belch did it without a second thought, pulling you close.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“My ex. He’s here. Didn’t end well.” You paused. “Actually, he thinks it’s not over.”

“There’s my baby,” came a voice just behind you.

You turned, eyes hard. Belch followed you, keeping his arm around you.

“Julian,” you said. “I’m _not_ your baby.”

“It’s cute that you think that,” he said. “Who’s this?”

“This is Belch,” you said.

You immediately regretted it as Julian’s face soured like he was sucking on mold.

“Belch? Really? That’s a fake name if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Julian, your real name is Tyler. You can’t fucking judge,” you said.

“At least my name isn’t a synonym for _burp_ ,” he said.

“We’re on a date, man. Fuck off,” said Belch.

You looked at him, and his jaw was clenched. Your heart swelled.

“A date? With _him_?” asked Julian.

“Yes. With him,” you said, putting your arm around Belch’s waist and pulling him in until there was no space between you.

“He’s so…” said Julian, looking Belch over. “Disappointingly normal.”

“Maybe I wanted something different,” you said, looking Julian up and down. He was still the same boy you’d once loved — dreadfully goth and poisonous.

“He’ll dump you,” said Julian sweetly. “Just as soon as he figures out you’re not worth the fuss.”

“If I’m not worth the fuss, why do you want me back so bad?” you spat.

“Maybe I think you’d be better off with me. He’ll never understand you,” he said.

“I understand plenty. Like you, I understand you’re a piece of shit who won’t let go,” said Belch.

He pulled away from you, going to stand toe to toe with Julian. Julian, who looked so much smaller than him, it was laughable. Julian, who looked worthless next to him.

“You’ll never really get it. I bet you’re just in it ‘cause you think goths are freaks.”

“I’m in it for my own reasons. I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

“Your own reasons. Ah.”

Julian looked like he knew everything.

“Julian, why don’t you just admit that you’re jealous?” you asked, pushing between them.

“Jealous of what, sweetheart? I’m starting to think you’re not worth it.”

“Fuck off,” you snarled.

“You better be nice to me,” he said.

“Or what?”

He raised a hand, assumedly to hit you, and you flinched.

It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Belch caught him by the wrist and spun him, shoving his hand up between his shoulder blades. Then, he growled something in his ear, and shoved him away from both of you.

Julian looked back, terrified. Then, he left.

Belch put his arm around you, pulling you in and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Thanks,” you said. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“I’d do anything, for you,” he said.

You looked at him, heart beating fast.

“Anything?” you asked.

“Anything,” he said.

“Come here and kiss me, then,” you said.

He smiled and leaned down, gently putting his lips on yours. You sighed, getting up on your toes and winding your arms around his neck. He pulled back from the kiss, smiling at you, but a little sad.

“C’mon,” he said.

He pulled you out the back door of the house, where the smokers and stoners congregated as they did at every house party and show you’d ever been to.

You took out a cigarette and offered him one. He took it, and you lit yours, leaning in to light his off the end of yours.

“He hit you, didn’t he?” he asked, voice soft.

“Yeah.” You looked at your feet.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

You took a drag and exhaled, looking away from him.

“Are you…” he started, then seemed to think about it for a second. You waited on him. “Are you still in love with him?”

“Fuck no,” you said. Then, you spat off the porch into the darkness of he lawn.

He laughed, a little thing that was almost cold.

Then: “Are you. Fuck. I hate to ruin things, but. Are you using me to get over him?”

“Oh,” you said, finally looking at him. He seemed immeasurably sad. “No, I promise. I promise I’m not.”

“Okay.”

He swallowed, hard, looking away from you.

“Do you want to leave?” he asked.

“Do you?”

“Not unless you do.”

“Well, the band should play for another half hour. Then, I guess, we can go.”

“Okay.”

You went back inside, listening to the band. Belch stood behind you, his arms around your middle and his chin on top of your head. You both swayed to the music, a dark ballad about failed love coming back to burn again.

When the band was done playing, you trailed out the door, holding Belch’s hand.

You got in the car and drove silently back to Derry. You were glad that with him, you didn’t have to talk all the time. That with him, you could sit quietly, not doing much of anything.

When you got back to your house, he parked, not saying anything.

“I —” he said, pausing. “I would be kinda upset if you were.”

“If I was what?”

“Trying to get over him by being with me.”

“Oh. Oh, Belch — _Reggie_. No.”

He looked at you, sad. You looked back, feeling like your heart was going to break.

“I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t do it to anyone,” you said.

“I didn’t think you would, but… but still.”

You did the only thing you could think of. You leaned in and kissed him, hard and insistent. He seemed shocked for a second, then kissed you back, energetic.

You opened your mouth, just the littlest bit, and he slid his tongue in between your lips. You sighed. God, you’d wanted this. You’d wanted this since the first time he’d smiled at you, you realized now.

You pulled back from the kiss, and he smiled.

“I’m so glad I can kiss you,” he said. “I’ve wanted to since I first saw you, the first day you were here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I saw you standing outside your parents’ store, and I just. God. Fuck. You’re so fucking cute.”

You giggled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you said. “Goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight.”

You pecked him on the lips, then went to get out of the car. He pulled you back by your wrist and kissed you again, holding you there by the back of your neck, sliding his tongue up against yours. You smiled into the kiss. Then, you pulled back.

“’Bye.”

“’Bye.”

You went to your front porch, unlocking the door and just standing there, waiting for him to drive away. He watched you, he waved, and then, he was gone.

Your parents were already asleep, so you crept upstairs to your bedroom, flopping down on the bed and staring at your fairy lights.

He’d kissed you.

He’d actually kissed you, and it had been amazing.

Fuck, you really liked him.

 _Fuck_.

You got up and combed out your hair so it wouldn’t be ratty in the morning, singing that She Wants Revenge song quietly to yourself.

 _Kiss me now, just kiss me now_  
Kiss me now, just kiss me now  
  
Kiss me now, the time is right,  
Kiss me now then say goodnight

When you went to bed, you checked your phone one last time.

**12:32am. From: Reggie**

_miss you already_

You shot off a response, then put your phone on your bedside table, face down, grinning.

**12:33am. To: Reggie**

_miss you more_


	6. six

The next morning, you woke up bright and early. You set to burning the playlist you’d made for Belch to a CD, decorating the case with stickers of bats and skulls and tombstones.

You put lipstick on just to kiss a piece of paper that you’d slide into the case behind where the CD would sit, so he could take it out and see you there. You spent a good five minutes trying to get the kiss mark perfect — it had to be perfect, it just had to be.

You got dressed and started doing your hair up again.

Your dad knocked on your door, calling through it: “Hey, sweet bean. Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you called back.

He opened the door and brought in your breakfast: egg and tofu scramble with spinach. He must have been feeling fancy when he got up, to make something like that. God, you loved his cooking.

He set the plate down at your desk, then picked up the CD case.

“Ooh, you made him a mixtape,” he said.

You laughed.

“Yeah. I figured now’s as good a time as any,” you said.

“How’d your date go?” he asked, sitting on your bed.

He’d helped you get ready the day before, tying your tie for you and lending you his singular tie tack, a little thing with a fake diamond set in it.

“Oh, really well. He kissed me.”

You sighed and put your head in your hands, a sweet smile on your face.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Actually, _I_ kissed _him_. It was — it was really nice.”

“Good, bean. Good.”

You sighed again and went back to teasing your hair.

“Julian showed up.”

“Oh, that little asshole. What’d he do?”

“He — he tried to hit me again.”

Your dad took a deep breath. You could tell just by the sound that he was angry. You didn’t have to look at him.

“Bet Reggie loved that.”

“Oh, yeah. He took care of it for me.”

“Well, good. I knew he was worth his weight in salt.”

“Yeah.” You paused. “I can’t believe he showed up.”

“You can’t believe that absolute rat would drive all the way up from Portland to ruin your night? He knows you love Six Ravens. Of _course_ he’d show up.”

“Good point. I just wish he’d let go.”

“I know, bean. Some guys just can’t take no for an answer.”

“And I had the luck of falling in love with one.”

You looked at him in your mirror and he smiled.

“I know. But you’ve got someone new. Best to look at the good of what you have, instead of what hurt you in the past.”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. He was right.

“I know. I’ve got a better guy, now.”

“You do. He liked my pancakes. I like him.”

You laughed.

“Dad, everyone likes your pancakes.”

“I know. But if he hadn’t, he’d have been on thin ice.”

You grinned at him, and he grinned back.

“Well, don’t let me interrupt you,” he said. “Get back to your routine. Your mom and I will be leaving soon.”

“Okay. I’ll be down to say hi to her.”

“Good.”

He left, letting you get back to your hair.

When you were done, you went down and said hi to your mom, getting a hug and giving a kiss to both of them before they left.

You went back upstairs, listening to your playlist for Belch one last time, making sure it transferred to CD correctly.

You got dressed and did your makeup, again putting on that coating that made sure your lipstick was kiss proof.

When you got to school, a little bit early, you searched the parking lot for Belch’s car. You found it, him and the guys standing around it. Belch leaned up against the passenger door, his arms crossed, laughing at something you’d missed.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey there, you,” he said.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. He put an arm around your waist, pulling you in.

“Missed you,” he said.

Then, he kissed you. You smiled into it and pulled back, grinning.

“Finally,” said Patrick.

“Shut it,” you said, not taking your eyes off Belch.

He laughed.

“I got something for you,” you said, pulling the CD out of your bag. You handed it to him, and he took it, surprised.

“You gotta be kidding me,” he said.

“Huh?”

“I made one for you, too,” he said. He reached into the open window behind him, then handed you a cd.

You took it from him, laughing as you turned it over, looking at the track listing. It was a lot of Metallica and Avenged Sevenfold, but you loved it. It was perfect.

“Cute,” said Henry, crossing his arms.

“Shut up,” you said. “I love it, Belch. Thank you.”

“Cool,” he said, smiling.

You split for classes, and every time you had to reach into your bag for something, you’d see the CD and smile, knowing he cared enough to make it.

In History, he sat in the usually empty desk next to yours. Neither of you said anything, but it was nice to have him there. He kept giving you those little smiles, those smiles that made his eyes crinkle.

Lunch time rolled around.

“Hey, there sweet thing,” purred a voice in your ear.

You whipped your head around, pulling away from your locker to look at who it was.

Patrick.

“Oh, it’s just you,” you sneered.

“ _Just_ me? Watch out, you might hurt my feelings.”

“Thank god. What do you want?”

“Just to escort you out to the boys,” he said, crossing his arms. “You gonna get your shit, or what?”

You grabbed your lunch and closed your locker.

He took you by the arm, pulling you out of the building. When Belch saw the both of you, he pushed off the hood of his car and quickly snatched Patrick’s hand from your arm.

“Patrick,” he said. “What did I say about touching?”

“Only myself, and when I’m thinking of you, baby?”

You’d been taking a drink of your water and almost spit it out, hearing that. Then, you laughed.

Patrick grinned at you like he’d won the lottery.

“I can see why you like this one, Belch,” he said. He looked at you like he wanted to take you apart. “It’s like winning a prize, making a goth smile.”

You scowled at him, just for fun, rolling your eyes.

Then you hopped up on the hood of the car, crossing your legs carefully under you.

“What’s for lunch?” asked Vic, wrinkling his nose when you opened up the plastic container that held the bulk of your food.

“Chinese chicken salad, except instead of chicken, it’s tofu,” you said.

“Tofu?” asked Henry, also wrinkling his nose. “Pussy shit.”

“Hey, my parents are vegetarians. I’m not, but you know.”

“You could always make them make meat for you,” he said.

“I wouldn’t do that to my dad. He’d puke.”

Belch was looking intently at your salad, so you held up a forkful.

“Want a bite?” you asked.

“Uh,” he said. “No, that’s okay.”

You laughed.

“It wouldn’t hurt you. But okay.”

Belch reached into the car and pulled out two sandwiches.

“Henry,” he said. “Mama made me two. You can have one.”

“Nice,” said Henry, taking one from him. “I love your mom.”

“Please don’t,” said Belch.

“Don’t what?” you asked, looking up from your food.

“Tell him I bet his mama’s lonely,” said Henry through a mouthful of sandwich. “Bet she wishes —”

“She doesn’t wish shit about your dick, Bowers,” Belch said, his voice hard.

It was your turn to wrinkle your nose.

“God,” you said. “I’m glad you’ve never met my parents, Henry.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What does it sound like?”

“Sounds like you don’t get yet that dating Belch means you have to put up with me,” he said.

“I don’t have to put up with anything, Henry.”

“You think that, now. You’ll see.”

“I think you’d be surprised.”

You both stared at each other, locking eyes.

Patrick whistled.

“Better watch out, Belch. Your baby’s eyefucking someone right in front of you.”

“Can it, Patrick,” you said, finally pulling your gaze away from Henry’s.

“Yeah, Patrick. Shut your face,” said Belch. “Take care of your business, and I’ll take care of mine.”

He put and arm around you and kissed your hair. You smiled up at him, going back to your food with his arm around you.

“What does that mean?” asked Patrick, beginning to fume.

“You know,” said Belch, “ _exactly_ what I mean.”

When you were done eating, you lit up a cigarette.

“Menthols? Really?” asked Patrick.

“Yeah. No one wants to steal them,” you said.

“Who’d even ask?” asked Henry.

He had a point. There was no one in your life to steal your smokes.

You shrugged, still smoking.

When lunch was over, you and Belch kissed goodbye and went to your separate classes.

After school, you wandered around, finding that guy named Josh. The weed guy.

“How much you need?” he asked, reaching into his bag.

“Enough for three joints. My parents want one,” you said, smiling.

They’d actually given you the money, as long as you promised to get them some. It’d been a while since either of them got high.

“Well,” he said, looking up at you. “Say hi to them for me.”

“I will,” you said, handing him the money.

He passed you the baggie, asking, “do you have rolling papers?”

You patted your bag. “Yup.”

“Good. On your way, now.”

You waved and walked to your car. Belch was waiting for you.

“Hey, you,” you said.

“Hey, yourself. Whatcha doing today?”

“I was gonna get high and work on this jacket I’m painting. Why?”

“Wanna meet up with the guys at my house? You can bring your paint stuff. And the weed.”

“You just want me to share,” you teased.

He laughed. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe I just want to hang out with you.”

You grinned. “Okay. I’ll be there. Give me half an hour at most.”

“Okay.”

He gave you good directions from his house to yours — you were surprised, most people were shitty at giving directions — and sent you on your way.

You got to your house, emptying your bag and checking to make sure your jacket was completely dry before you shoved it inside, along with the paint and brushes you knew you’d need.

You took the time to roll a joint before you left. Then, you went.

You arrived at a small house. You wouldn’t have exactly believed it was his, except his car was in the driveway, bright and brash. God, you loved that car. Almost as much as you loved yours, which was saying a lot.

You knocked on the door, and he answered, letting you in with a smile.

Henry and Patrick were fighting in the kitchen. Vic and Belch shared a look, and then in a flash, were in motion. Belch picked up Henry and threw him over his shoulder, getting pummeled on the back for his troubles. Vic shoved Patrick into a room — you glanced in and saw an Anthrax poster, and guessed, correctly, that it was Belch’s room — and after Belch deposited Henry on the bed, both Belch and Vic ran for the door and locked it.

“Quick question,” you said. “Actually, a few. First, what the hell? Second, why does your room lock from the outside?”

“Dumb mistake someone made when they built the house,” said Belch.

“Also, those assholes have been flirting for weeks and we’re sick of it,” said Vic.

You just stood there, stunned.

“Really?” you asked. “Really? That’s… _that’s_ what’s weird about them?”

“Really,” said Vic, shrugging. “Now show me this shit you’re painting.”

A loud bang came from inside the room, then pounding on the door.

“Open this fucking door,” yelled Henry.

“No,” said Belch. “You two figure your shit out, then I’ll let you out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” said Henry.

“Really? How ‘bout you ask Patrick.”

“Hockstetter,” snapped Henry. “What the fu —"

And then he let out a little squeak.

“C’mon,” said Vic. “Let’s leave them to it.”

You all went out to the back yard and got settled on the grass. Then you took out your jacket and paints, showing off the work you’d already done. Belch was appropriately impressed, if not just a little too impressed.

“What?” you asked, trailing a finger over one of the vultures you’d painted on it, circling over a bloody heart on the ground. Each vulture was wearing a tiny crown.

“It’s so fucking cool. You really did all this?” he asked.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s really not that good. I could point out every mistake I made, easily.”

“Don’t. It’s perfect.”

Vic handed the joint to Belch, who lit it up, passing it to you. You took it, taking a deep puff.

Ten minutes later, you were feeling great. Belch had gone inside and brought back a stereo to play the CD you’d made for him. You hummed along, painting swirls all up and down the arms of the jacket, and he kept pressing little kisses all over your face when you paused to clean a brush or get more paint.

“Should we check on those assholes?” asked Vic. “See if they’ve wrecked the room yet?”

“Sure,” said Belch. He got to his feet and helped you up.

You trailed after him, going inside. All of you were met with a loud moan — a loud moan that sounded distinctly like Henry — and immediately booked it back outside, laughing.

“Let’s give them fifteen more minutes or something,” said Vic, holding his side.

“Fine by me,” said Belch. Then he turned to you. “Can I paint something on it?”

“What’re you thinking?” you asked.

“I dunno. I like the swirls and stuff, but it needs something.”

You looked at Vic, who was nodding.

Then, you handed Belch a brush.

“Go for it,” you said.

With his tongue in between his teeth, he dipped the brush into some white paint and held the brush above one shoulder of the jacket. Then, he painted a tiny four-pointed star.

He looked at you, and you grinned.

“Perfect,” you said. “Do more of ‘em.”

For the next twenty minutes, you sat quietly painting together, Vic between you, playing with your hair. You made a face at him, and he made it back.

Then — out the back door came Patrick and Henry. Henry, looking pissed, and Patrick, looking pleased.

“Did you break my fucking door?” asked Belch, eyes narrow.

“No, this fucker picked the lock once he was done with me,” said Henry. Then, he seemed to realize what he said, and tried to backtrack. “I mean — fuck, you know —”

“Oh, we know. How was it?” teased Vic.

“Wait, hold on, you know how to pick locks?” asked Belch.

“You’re surprised?” asked Patrick, smug.

Belch shrugged.

“Also, it was fine. For a first time — and second time,” Patrick continued.

Henry’s ears turned red and he eagerly grabbed the joint out of Vic’s hand.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, sitting down next to you.

“We don’t have to,” you said, surprised at him. It didn’t feel right for him to be so shy about anything.

“Too bad, I want to,” said Patrick, clapping Henry on the shoulder. “Henry here is a two-pump chump.”

Henry gave him a look that could’ve killed him.

“Patrick likes having his hair pulled,” he said.

“A slap on the ass goes a long way with you,” said Patrick.

“You bite too much,” spat Henry.

“Your dick didn’t think so, baby.”

“Call me that again, Hockstetter. I dare you.”

“Baby.”

Henry punched the backside of one of Patrick’s knees, taking him down quickly. Then, he was on top of him, Patrick absolutely roaring with laughter. Henry slapped a hand over Patrick’s mouth to shut him up, and Patrick licked it. When Henry started to pull away, a snarl beginning to screw up his face, Patrick took one of his fingers into his mouth and sucked.

Henry’s face turned bright red and he pushed away from Patrick, scrambling until he was sitting beside you.

Patrick propped himself up on his elbows, grinning at Henry.

“What, you ashamed of us, baby?” he asked.

“I’m — I’m not your _baby_ , Patrick,” stammered Henry.

That struck a cord with you, hard.

You didn’t mean to look, but you did. He was getting hard.

There was also a dark hickey blooming on his neck, right next to his Adam’s apple.

You sighed, rolling your eyes.

“Can you two try and work out what you are to each other some other time?” you asked. “Let’s just get high.”

“Sure, hot stuff,” said Patrick, taking the joint from Vic, who had valiantly saved it from Henry’s attack on him.

“Patrick,” said Belch. “Save it for Henry.”

“You know what?” asked Patrick, blowing out a cloud of sweet smoke. “Don’t mind if I do. You want some, honey?”

Henry glared at him.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What can I call you?”

“I don’t care, asshole. Just not that.”

“How about _fuckface_?”

Henry, finally, laughed.

“Fine,” he said.

“C’mere, fuckface,” said Patrick, taking a long drag on the joint. He waved Henry in and grabbed his face until he opened his mouth, then he breathed the smoke into it.

It was such an intimate gesture that you looked away, focusing on your jacket.

It was looking really good. The stars Belch had added gave it something special — or maybe you just really, really liked him, and that’s all it was. Either way, you were pleased.

Vic rolled another joint, and by the end of it, all of you were laying in a pile on the grass, your playlist for Belch on repeat. Patrick was curled up to Henry, and Henry ran his hands through his hair. You were laying half on top of Belch, and he had his arm around you, humming along to the song playing on the stereo. You had a hand in Vic’s hair. Your jacket and paints laid five feet away, blissfully forgotten.

“There’s a party on Friday,” said Vic. “We should go.”

“Whose party?” you asked.

“I don’t fucking know,” he said. Then he started giggling.

You all started laughing, too, soon sounding like a pack of hyenas.

“Jesus,” gasped Henry, reaching out to thump you on the shoulder. “It’s so weird to see you laugh and shit.”

“Why?” you asked.

“You’re just so — you try to be all dark and spooky. But you’re not,” he said.

“What’s that thing your mom calls you?” Belch asked.

“Starchild,” you said.

“Starchild,” he repeated, soft. “My starchild.”

You snuggled into his chest, his chin on the top of your head.

“Why don’t you guys just like, get it over with?” said Vic.

“Hm?” you said. “Get what over with?”

“Just fuck. Do it. Fuck each other.”

You grinned up at Belch. He was already looking at you, a sparkle in his eye.

“Well,” you said. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m okay with whatever you want, baby.”

Your smile got bigger. _Baby_. He called you baby, and you wanted that, and it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“C’mon,” you said, getting to your feet and pulling him up with you, to a chorus of _oohs_ from the other boys.

You pulled Belch, laughing, into the house, towards his room. When you got there, you pushed him down to sit on the bed. He took his hat off, throwing it across the room. Then, you crawled into his lap, straddling him, kissing him all over his face. He chuckled, his hands on your hips, holding you down on him.

“You wanna do this, baby?” he asked. “You want me to fuck you?”

“God, yeah,” you said.

You pulled him into a bruising kiss, the world floating around you. He broke the kiss, then kissed a line down your jaw, your neck.

“Can I take this off you?” he asked, pulling on your shirt.

You nodded, and he pulled it off over your head. He kept kissing you, until he got to one of your nipples and took it into his mouth, running his tongue over it again and again until you were squirming in his lap, feeling him, hard, underneath you.

“Fuck, Belch,” you groaned, running your hands through his hair.

“Call me Reggie?”

“ _Reggie_. Oh, _fuck_ , Reggie.”

“That’s it, baby. You feel good?”

You nodded, eyes drifting closed. He moved his mouth to your other nipple, working on it, gently sucking and nibbling on it. You ground down against him, feeling the effect you had on him. God, he felt _big_.

“Come on, baby, wake up,” he said, putting a hand on your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

You jerked back, eyes snapping open.

“Sorry,” you said. “I — sometimes when I get high, I get sleepy.”

“You wanna take a nap?” he asked.

“We probably should. I don’t want to fall asleep on you,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he said.

He easily picked you up off his lap and laid you on the bed behind him. Then, he laid down behind you, putting one arm around your stomach. You rolled over just a little bit so you could kiss him, your tongue darting out to lick at his lips.

“You’re gonna make me wish we hadn’t stopped,” he said.

“Sorry,” you said, not that sorry at all.

“No you’re not,” he said.

“You’re right.”

You curled into his chest and promptly fell asleep.

You woke to the sound of muffled music. You were still shirtless, laying in Belch’s bed, him right in front of you. You got up, pulling on your shirt.

You found the source of the music. Vic, Patrick, and Henry stood outside Belch’s bedroom window. Henry had lost his shirt somewhere. You glanced at the clock. It’d been only an hour.

You opened the window, finally hearing the music that was pouring out of the CD player Vic was holding above his head. Friday I’m In Love by the Cure. Presumably from the playlist you’d made for Belch.

“What are you guys doing?” you asked, peering out the window.

Vic turned the music off and put down the stereo.

“Fucking waiting on you. None of us are high anymore, and we’re hungry. Did you fuck, or not?”

You blushed.

“No.”

“Boo,” yelled Patrick. “I was cheering for you.”

“Shut up, Patrick,” said Henry.

“Make me, fuckface.”

“Do you want me to wake up Belch so we can go get some food?” you asked.

“Yeah,” said Vic.

“I’m up,” groaned Belch behind you.

“Good news,” you said. “He’s awake.”

That night, when you got home, you put the CD Belch made for you in your player, pressing play.

“Hey,” said his voice from the speakers. “Mama says that back in her day, when you made someone a mixtape, sometimes, you’d record yourself saying something before it. So, this is me, recording something. I just wanna say I like you a lot. I think you’re really cool, and cute, and I’m glad I know you.”

Then, the next song started.

You backtracked, listening to his voice again. He sounded shy and uncertain, like he didn’t know how the message was going to go over.

You picked up your phone.

**11:34pm. To: Reggie**

_just listened to your message. I like you a lot too_

You sent it, not waiting before you sent another.

**11:35pm. To: Reggie**

_sorry we didn’t fuck today. soon?_

He replied.

**11:37pm. From: Reggie**

_soon :)_

You went to bed with a smile on your face.


	7. six and a half

When Belch picked him up, Henry was blindsided. He immediately began hitting Belch’s broad back over and over again, slapping him — and when that didn’t work, balling up his fists and pounding into him.

“Put me the fuck down, asshole,” he yelled, kicking his legs.

Belch said nothing. He merely dropped Henry on his own bed and rushed to the door with Vic, slamming it and audibly locking it behind him.

Henry spared only the smallest glance at Patrick — fucking Patrick, the person he was locked in a room with — and then he ran to the door, banging on it.

“Open this fucking door!” he yelled.

“No,” said Belch. “You two figure your shit out, then I’ll let you out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Henry said.

“Really? How ‘bout you ask Patrick,” Belch shot back.

Henry could hear Vic laughing outside.

He turned around.

“Hockstetter,” he snapped. “What the fu —"

And then he let out a squeak. A mortifying little squeak, because he was trapped between the door and Patrick, one of Patrick’s long arms propped up on the door, blocking him in. Lazily, as if he had all the time in the world, Patrick put his other hand up, right next to Henry’s head.

“Patrick,” he hissed. “Cut it out. What are you fucking doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” asked Patrick, his lips dangerously close to Henry’s own.

Henry could feel Patrick’s breath on his face. He glanced down at Patrick’s mouth, worrying. He heard footsteps leading away from the door, and he knew, somehow he just knew, he was fucked.

He swallowed, hard.

“Patrick,” he warned. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”

“Why? You gonna stop me?”

“You know I will.”

“I don’t really believe that.”

Patrick leaned in, ghosting his lips over Henry’s.

Henry’s ears heated up, bright red, and he pushed Patrick away, both hands to his chest.

“What?” Patrick laughed. “You don’t want it? Don’t say it, we’ll both know you’re lying.”

Then came the heat in Henry’s chest. Henry was many things — a cheat, a bully, a mean motherfucker, and the toughest guy he knew. But he wasn’t a liar. Not when it mattered.

He pushed Patrick again, tangling both hands into fists in the front of his shirt.

Patrick grinned lazily at him.

“You gonna fucking kiss me, don’t be a pussy,” Henry growled. “Fucking kiss me.”

“You want me to kiss you, baby?” Patrick teased.

“I’m not your fucking _baby_ , Hockstetter.”

“Oh, but you will be.”

Henry snarled and pulled their faces together, their teeth knocking on impact. He bit Patrick’s lip, hard, and Patrick groaned.

“Fuck, _Henry_ ,” he said.

“Shut up, you little fucking bitch.”

“Ooh, yes sir,” he said.

Henry put a hand in Patrick’s hair and yanked. Patrick just smiled.

“You like that?” Henry asked, not shocked at all. “You fucking like having your hair pulled?”

“Do it again.”

He did, grabbing Patrick by the back of the neck, pulling so hard that Patrick was looking at the ceiling, his eyes watering.

“Get on your fucking knees,” said Henry.

“Or _what_?” Patrick spat.

“Or I take off my belt,” Henry growled.

Patrick, with a small smirk on his face, got to his knees. Henry’s hand stayed in his hair, and Patrick pushed up against the touch like a cat looking for a scratch behind the ear.

“You gonna blow me or not?” asked Henry.

“Depends. You wanna ask nice and pretty?”

“Fuck you.”

“Good thing we’re going the same direction.”

Patrick undid Henry’s belt and pants, shoving them down around his knees. Henry fought the instinct to cover himself. It was just Patrick. Fucking _Patrick_ , but still.

He was getting a blow job out of whatever the fuck was going on, so why would he care?

He didn’t.

Patrick nudged his clothed cock with his nose, licking at the fabric. He looked up and locked eyes with Henry.

Henry tried to give him the hardest look he could, but he was starting to breathe hard.

Patrick laughed and shoved Henry towards the bed, the backs of Henry’s knees hitting the mattress and bending. He sat down, Patrick between his legs, a hand on each knee, still licking at the fabric covering his dick.

“You gonna fucking get to it already?” Henry said sharply.

“Maybe I wanna take my sweet time.” Patrick sneered. “Why, sugar? You ready to blow your load already?”

“Don’t call me that,” Henry said.

“Don’t call you what? Sugar? Baby? Honey? Sweetheart?”

“You know what, either blow me, or figure out a way out of this fucking room.”

Patrick grinned and hooked two fingers in the waist of Henry’s boxers, slowly pulling them down until the head of Henry’s cock was exposed. He leaned in and gave it just the tiniest lick, and Henry hissed.

It wasn’t his first time. But for some reason, he was nervous and high strung.

It was probably fucking Patrick. His brain, seeing the boy between his legs and telling him to run, fast and far away.

Patrick was a creep.

But hey, he turned out to be decent with his mouth. He licked a stripe up the underside of Henry’s dick, ending up with his lips wrapped around the head.

Henry grunted and put a hand in Patrick’s hair, forcing his head further down on the shaft. Teeth, just for the barest moment, dragged along that sensitive skin, and Henry sucked in a breath, pulling Patrick off.

“Fuck you,” he said when Patrick just smiled at him.

“I’ll get there, don’t you worry, sweet cheeks.”

Then, he put his mouth on Henry’s dick again, and Henry, with his hand still in Patrick’s hair, forced him down on it. Patrick hummed and the bare vibration of the sound shot straight to Henry’s gut.

Fuck. Oh, he was _so_ fucked.

Patrick pumped what he couldn’t fit in his mouth with one hand, the other gently playing with Henry’s balls.

With a groan, Henry came, embarrassingly fast.

And Patrick? Patrick swallowed.

Henry flopped onto his back, looking at the ceiling and wondering just how Belch and Vic knew that he’d kinda had a thing for Patrick.

It was mostly a thing made up of wondering, of thinking about doing something but becoming so pissed off at Patrick’s very existence that he never had.

Was he glad? Now that he’d done something, how did he feel?

He didn’t have time to investigate, not that he really wanted to, because Patrick was climbing on top of him, straddling his hips, grinding down on his still sensitive dick.

“What do you want?” Henry groaned.

“Glad you asked,” said Patrick, who then kissed him, hard. He wrapped a hand around the back of Henry’s neck, pulling him up into it.

It was one of those kisses that you only have once with someone — the first _real_ kiss. After all pretending is done, both people are actually interested, and everything’s going right, there’s the first kiss.

And it was a good one, too. Patrick was really giving it to him, like he was afraid that Henry was still going to push him away.

Henry wouldn’t. Not now.

Henry kissed him back, sliding his tongue up against Patrick’s and letting out little grunts and moans as he went along. He slipped both hands down and grabbed Patrick’s ass, pulling him in to grind down harder on him, feeling Patrick’s dick through his pants. He was hard, and Henry wondered what, exactly, he would be expected to do about that.

Not that he’d do it. But he still wondered.

“Shoulda done this forever ago,” said Patrick, breaking the kiss to grin down at Henry.

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“What, Hockstetter? You fucking in _love_ with me or something?”

Patrick didn’t answer, just kissed him again, rutting up against him. Henry kept his hands on his ass. They slowed down until Patrick was just barely rocking up against him, Henry’s heartbeat slowing.

That just wouldn’t do.

Patrick grinned like a Cheshire cat as Henry slipped his hand down to undo his belt, sliding his hand into Patrick’s pants.

Patrick’s pants, which of course, were the only thing in between Henry and Patrick’s dick.

No boxers. No nothing.

Of course.

Henry slowly stroked Patrick’s cock, feeling the weight and the length of it in his hand. Henry had seen Patrick’s dick before — skinny dipping wasn’t something they’d _never_ done — so he wasn’t surprised. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be pleased.

He smiled. Patrick smiled back, wider.

“You just gonna play with it, or you actually gonna do something?” Patrick asked.

Instead of answering, Henry undid Patrick’s pants and pushed them down, jerking Patrick off. He pulled, hard and fast, and Patrick threw his head back and moaned.

“Shut up, asshole,” Henry said. “They’re gonna hear you.”

“No, they won’t,” said Patrick. “I heard the back door close. They’re outside, and I can be however — oh, _fuck_ — however loud I want to be.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Henry, twisting his hand over the head of Patrick’s cock. “How loud you wanna be? You wanna be a whiny little bitch for me?”

“ _Henry_ ,” Patrick said. No, he whined. He absolutely whined. “Henry, oh my _god_.”

Henry grinned, knowing that Patrick was faking it, but not caring much.

“You like that?”

“Yeah. Fuck.”

Now that — that sounded real.

Patrick’s hand met Henry’s on his dick. He grabbed Henry’s dick and brought them together, wrapping his long fingers around both and slowly stroking from base to tip.

Henry huffed out a short breath, and Patrick caught his eye. Patrick, fucking Patrick, who looked like the cat who ate the fucking canary.

Fucking Patrick, who looked like he was getting what he’d always wanted.

“How long you wait on this, huh?” asked Henry, gasping.

“Who cares,” said Patrick, shrugging.

“Maybe I care.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t. ‘S been a long time, that’s all.”

“Tell me. Weeks? Months?” Henry searched his face, finding the answer. “Years. Fuck.”

Patrick pushed him into a bruising kiss, one hand on their dicks, jerking them both off faster.

Henry got there first. He came with a loud moan, hearing laughter outside in the rest of the house. His chest flushed bright red, and he covered his eyes. Fuck. They heard.

Patrick came a minute later, going to kneel on the bed and licking the cum off Henry’s stomach.

“Nasty,” Henry sighed.

“You love it.”

“Yeah, no.”

Patrick flopped down on top of him. It knocked the breath out of Henry, and as soon as he got it back, he spat: “Jesus, Patrick, fuck you.”

“We’ll get to that.”

Exhausted, Henry fell asleep.

When he woke, it was to the sound of soft grunts and slick skin against skin. He cracked his eyes and found Patrick fingering himself.

“Patrick, what the fuck?” he asked. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think? Got sick of waiting around for you, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Patrick huffed, but didn’t reply, adding another finger. He was up to three.

Henry watched, halfway interested. Patrick had his other hand in his hair, pushing it off his forehead, breathing hard.

“You just gonna play with yourself?” asked Henry.

“Why, you wanna help me out?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“No, but you were thinking it.”

Henry sighed and sat up, watching him.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” asked Patrick.

Henry knew damn well that Patrick knew he’d never fucked a guy before.

“Why, have you?” he asked. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Patrick’s fingers, slowly pumping in and out of his ass.

“Course I have.”

That didn’t surprise Henry in the least. Of _course_ Patrick had fucked — no, been fucked _by_ — a guy before. Of course. Little bitch.

Henry tilted his head to the side, and Patrick huffed. He pulled his fingers out of his ass and grabbed Henry’s hand.

“C’mon. Let’s go. I’m sick of waiting on you.”

“What do you expect me to do, asshole?”

“Fuck me.”

Henry finally looked Patrick in the eye. His eyes were lazy, half shut.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked.

He didn’t know why he found it hard to believe.

“Yes, asshole, I want you to fuck me. C’mon, don’t be a pussy.”

Henry’s chest flared up. Patrick knew exactly how to play him, stupid shit.

Henry got to his knees on the bed, in between Patrick’s wide-spread legs.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked again, his face hovering over Patrick’s. “Want me to make you fucking scream, fag?”

“If you can.”

Henry pulled him into a scorching kiss, biting his lip and shoving his tongue into his mouth. Patrick actually sighed, like he’d been waiting on that. Sighed, like it felt _so_ good.

Henry pushed his pants down — just a bit, they were already down. Then, he lined up his cock and shoved it in.

Patrick laid his head back on the pillow and moaned.

“Fuck, baby,” he said.

“I’m not — your fucking — baby,” Henry growled, punctuating that with sharp thrusts.

Patrick just grinned at him.

“No, you know what? You’re right. I’m _your_ baby.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, asshole.”

“Doesn’t matter — oh, _fuck_ , do that again,” said Patrick.

Henry pulled out until he was just barely still inside Patrick, and shoved back in.

God, but ass and pussy are not the same thing. Fuck, he never knew.

“God, yeah, fuck my ass,” Patrick whined.

“Cut it out. Stop pretending,” Henry snapped.

Patrick grinned at him.

“You want me to stop pretending? Fuck me harder, then. Give me my fucking money’s worth.”

Henry rolled his eyes and grabbed Patrick’s hips, pulling him onto his dick. Then, he slammed into him, again and again.

Patrick moaned. A real moan. A real, not pretend, actually having the time of his _life_ moan.

“Like that, you little bitch? Like it when I fucking pound you?”

“ _Henry_ — fuck, yeah, keep doing that.”

Henry, figuring that he was already here, and he might as well, reached up and grabbed Patrick’s hair, giving it a hard tug before he pulled him into another kiss. Patrick groaned into the kiss, biting at Henry’s lip, sucking on his tongue.

Patrick’s hands snaked down and grabbed Henry’s ass, pulling him into him. Then, he slapped Henry’s ass.

Surprised, Henry came inside him with a groan, eyes screwed shut. When he opened them again, Patrick was grinning like that was the best thing he’d ever seen.

“What?” Henry snapped, still fucking into him.

“You like having your ass slapped? You fucking like that shit?”

Henry’s ears grew warm and he looked away. He’d never thought about it, certainly never had it happen before.

Fuck Patrick. Fuck him.

“Get me off and I’ll leave you alone,” said Patrick.

“Fucking fine,” said Henry.

He wrapped a hand around Patrick’s dick and started jerking him off, still fucking his ass.

“Look at me,” Patrick said sharply. “I want you to fucking look at me when you’re getting me off.”

Henry hesitated, and Patrick grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at him.

Patrick was sweating, some of his hair stuck to his forehead. His eyes were half shut, and he was smiling.

He looked fucked. He looked weirdly happy. Satisfied.

He looked like he was getting what he’d always wanted.

Patrick came, splattering his stomach with short bursts of cum. He swiped them up with his fingers as Henry pulled out of him. He licked his hands clean.

Henry stood up, putting himself back together.

He wanted this to never end.

He wanted this to never happen again, for it to never even be mentioned.

He wanted to kiss Patrick again.

“What’s going on in that little brain of yours, princess?” asked Patrick, lazily stretching, looking at Henry like he wanted to take him apart.

“Don’t call me that,” said Henry tiredly.

“Mm. What you thinking?”

Henry opened his mouth to say he wanted to do this again sometime, but snapped it shut.

You don’t just say shit like that, not if you’re Henry Bowers.

“Fuck you,” he said instead.

“We can again, you know. This doesn’t have to be the only time.”

Patrick slowly got up and got dressed. Then, he came to stand right in front of Henry.

He kissed him.

If Henry didn’t know better, he’d think it was a tender kiss. But Henry knew better than anyone what an actor Patrick was, how he could play someone else like a damn violin if he wanted.

Apparently, he wanted it.

And apparently, it was working.

Eyes shut tight, Henry sighed into the kiss.

Patrick pulled back, looking Henry over. He licked his lips.

“We can do whatever we want,” he said. “Whenever we want. No one would stop us.”

Henry took in a breath, thinking of one person who’d stop them if he knew. Then he shoved the thought of his father from his mind. Fuck that asshole. Fuck that.

“C’mon,” said Patrick. “Let’s get out of this fucking room.”

He pulled a few tools out of his back pocket and kneeled in front of the door.

“Wait, are you picking the lock?” asked Henry.

“Does it look like I am?”

Henry huffed.

“You mean we could have gotten out of here in two seconds,” Henry said, hearing a click come from the door, and Patrick pulling his tools out of the lock, “but you decided you’d be better off fucking me?”

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” said Patrick, standing and opening the door.

“What the _fuck_ did you do for me?”

“Got your dick wet. C’mon.”

Henry sighed and walked out the bedroom door. Patrick caught him by the arm and pulled him into another kiss, biting down hard on his bottom lip. Henry tasted blood, but he didn’t care. Sometimes, it was better to be detached.

“Oh, one last thing,” said Patrick, pulling away from the kiss.

Then, he bit down on Henry’s neck, right next to his Adam’s apple, and began sucking a hickey there.

Henry tried to push him away, but then realized that no one would know who made the hickey, except his crew.

He relaxed into it, just letting it rush over him.

He’d kissed Patrick Hockstetter. He’d fucked Patrick Hockstetter.

And the world wasn’t crumbling around him.

If it wasn’t okay, he was going to do his damnedest to make it okay.

Patrick finally stopped with the hickey, and pulled Henry out the back door, where everyone was sitting around, evidently waiting on them.


	8. seven

The next day, you watched as Henry slowly acclimated to having Patrick all over him. A hand in his back pocket, an arm around his shoulders. Sharing cigarettes. It was cute, the way Henry would blush. It was weird, too, to finally know why they had been so weird around each other.

Before school, Patrick leaned in and whispered something in Henry’s ear, ending with a bite to his earlobe. Henry pushed him away, laughing.

It was cute.

Henry refused to be kissed in public, though. Patrick didn’t respect that. He kept trying to sneak one in here and there, Henry pushing him away, getting more and more mad each time.

You pulled Patrick aside at the end of lunch.

“Patrick,” you said sharply, pulling his attention away from Henry. “Look at me.”

“What do you want, sweetheart?”

“Save the _sweethearts_ for Henry. Just listen to me.”

“Fine. What do you want?”

“You’re just pissing him off, trying to kiss him all the time.”

“Who cares?”

“Henry cares.”

He huffed.

“Dunno why he’s such a prude,” he said.

“He’s probably afraid of what people will think.”

“He doesn’t mind my hand on his ass but kissing him is too much?”

You put your hands up.

“Listen, I didn’t say it made perfect sense. I guess it’s just more intimate than he wants in public. What I’m saying is lay off unless you’re in private. I can tell he wants to kiss you, just not right now.”

He crossed his arms.

“Why do you even care?” he asked.

“’Cause. I know what it’s like to be pressured into shit like that. Give him time.”

He set his jaw into a hard line and sighed.

“Fine.”

“Okay?”

“I said okay.”

“Good.”

He stopped trying to kiss Henry every chance he got, settling for when they were in private. A weight seemed to lift from Henry’s shoulders.

And they did kiss. A lot. Constantly. Sometimes it was impossible to hold a conversation with them without one of them deciding he wanted a kiss.

It was unbearable.

But you put up with it. They’d get over it, soon.

That night, after your parents got home, you got high with them.

You would have invited Belch, since they liked him so much, but he was at work. In fact, he was working all week after school. You hated it, but you also kind of loved it — you hated having to settle for texts, but you loved that he loved his job. He loved working with his hands, solving problems, getting shit done. He talked about it like it was his favorite thing. You assumed it was.

“So, how are things going with you and Reggie?” your mom asked.

She took a puff on the joint — she’d rolled it, and it was beautiful — and passed it to you.

“Good. I think we’re going to have sex sometime soon,” you said.

You were always this open with them. You trusted them to trust you. It was just how things worked between all of you.

“Ooh, okay,” said your dad. “I hope it goes well.”

“I think it will. We got close yesterday, and he asked me things like if I felt good, and if I really wanted it, and stuff.”

“He’s such a gentleman,” your mother laughed. “What a guy.”

You smiled. “I’m lucky to have him.”

“You sure are, sweet bean,” said your dad.

“You’ll be safe, right?” asked your mom.

“Mom. Of _course_ we will.”

“I just wanted to make sure. I know, in the heat of the moment, a condom isn’t that sexy, but…”

“Better safe than sorry, I know,” you said.

“Just be smart, starchild,” she said.

You smiled again. “He calls me that, now, too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. _My_ starchild. That’s what he says.”

“What a sweetheart.”

“You’ve got a good guy, bean,” said your dad.

“I know. Trust me, I know.”

“You know who you remind me of?” your mom asked.

“Who?” you asked. You knew the answer.

“Us, when we’d just met.”

You sat back and waited for the rest of the story. You’d heard it plenty of times, but you still loved it each time it was told.

“How she looked at me the first time,” said your dad, sighing.

“Like I was looking for something, and I’d just found it,” your mom agreed.

“And then you asked him if he had any pot,” you added.

“Mm. We were at a party. This psychedelic band was playing, and well,” he said.

“It was the perfect time to fall in love,” your mom sighed. “Just perfect.”

You sighed, too. They were still so in love, even after all this time. They were really the perfect couple.

Before you went to bed, you texted Belch.

**11:30pm. To: Reggie**

_how was work?_

**11:31pm. From: Reggie**

_fixed a sticky transmission. fucking hard_

**11:31pm. To: Reggie**

_no idea what that means. is it okay now I guess?_

**11:32pm. From: Reggie**

_yeah it’s okay. you going to bed?_

**11:32pm. To: Reggie**

_yeah. you?_

**11:33pm. From: Reggie**

_yeah. goodnight starchild_

You grinned.

**11:33pm. To: Reggie**

_Goodnight babe_

The rest of the week passed without incident. You didn’t get any alone time with Belch, and it was starting to make you antsy.

You got ready for the party on Friday night, pinning your hair up into a fake mohawk again, your mom helping you get it right. She hovered behind you with pins in her mouth, humming something by the Beach Boys.

The guys picked you up, and you found that Henry didn’t have to surrender his seat to you — because he was already in the back with Patrick, a tangled mass of limbs and nasty smiles.

You rolled your eyes and got in, quietly saying hello to Belch as he drove to the party.

It was already in good shape when you arrived, and the group split to do various things. Patrick and Henry scoped out the bedrooms of the place to see where they could fuck if they wanted to. Vic went out to the back porch, where the smokers and stoners were already sitting around in little groups.

You and Belch got yourself drinks, then sat on a couch, you on his lap, straddling him. You were sharing a plastic cup of trashcan punch — various types of Hawaiian Punch mixed together with the cheapest vodka money can buy — passing it between you.

You got tipsy, and then lightly sloshed, and then flat out drunk, pretty fast. The punch didn’t taste like much of anything, but it got you there, and it got you there, quick.

Belch was fine. It took a lot to get him drunk, he swore, so you felt safe being with him.

He had both hands on your hips, holding you down in his lap. You swayed above him to the music, some Top 40 stuff you didn’t really care for but had a catchy beat. Maybe, when you were home and sober, you’d check it out. Maybe.

He pulled you down into a short kiss, just barely licking at your lips before deepening it. You put your arms over his shoulders, hands dangling limply as he continued kissing you. He broke the kiss and started kissing lines up and down your neck, pulling down the collar of your shirt to go lower from time to time.

“You want something, babe?” you teased him.

“You know what I want,” he said.

Just then, Patrick and Henry wandered by, hair mussed and clothes off kilter.

“Picked the second door on the right open, you might wanna take it before someone else does,” Patrick said, clapping Belch on the shoulder before wandering away again.

“God, those two,” you said, laughing.

“What do you say, baby?” Belch asked. “You wanna take this upstairs?”

“Let’s do it.”

He picked you up and carried you up the stairs, you giggling the entire time, curled into his chest. He set you down on a soft bed and closed the door behind him. You laid there, waiting for him. He smiled down at you.

“Look at you,” he said.

“Hm?”

“So pretty, just waiting to get fucked.”

You blushed.

“Reggie,” you said. “Come here.”

He came over, kneeling on the bed in front of you. He held your face in his hands, just looking at you with nothing less than adoration. Then, he kissed your cheeks, one after the other. He kissed you on your forehead, then square on the lips. You sighed into the kiss, winding your arms around his neck, pulling you closer to him.

His hands went to your ass, pulling you in until there was no space between your bodies, only your clothes.

Your fucking clothes. You needed to get rid of them, right now.

You broke the kiss to pull your shirt off over your head, and he smiled.

You swayed a little bit in his embrace, and he looked at you, concerned.

“You sure you want to do this now, baby?”

“I want to do this all the time,” you said. “I’m fine. Trust me.”

“Okay,” he said.

You reached down in between his legs, slowly dragging your fingernails over his jeans. You could feel him, hard, behind the denim, and you grinned at him.

“What, baby?” he asked.

“You’re so excited,” you said. “God, you’re so fucking _hot_.”

You undid his pants, slipping one hand inside and slowly stroking his cock. He sighed.

You backed up so you could get on your hands and knees to blow him. You licked a thick stripe all the way up the shaft and put your lips around the head and — there came a loud bang from the other side of the door. Startled, you pulled off Belch’s dick and looked at the door.

It swung open to reveal a very drunk Vic with a very apologetic Josh behind him.

“Hey, guys — oh, sorry, nothing I haven’t seen before, but — hey, guys, guess what?”

You groaned and flopped down on your stomach as Belch put himself back in his pants.

“What?” you asked, voice muffled by the blanket underneath you that smelled like sweat and sex — assumedly because Patrick and Henry had been there first.

“This is Josh. You guys know Josh, right?”

“Sure,” said Belch. He sounded pissed, but he was controlling it. He remained kneeling on the bed beside you.

“I kissed him. Josh is my boyfriend now,” Vic said. He pulled Josh into the room, grinning.

“Does Josh know he’s your boyfriend?” you asked, face smushed into the bedding. It matched how you felt.

“I’m so sorry, you guys,” said Josh. “And yeah, I know. We’re officially dating. Well, me and my boyfriend Tim are dating Vic, now. It’s complicated. Anyway. I’m really sorry, and we’ll leave you alone.”

He dragged a waving Vic out of the room, pulling the door closed behind them.

Belch took a deep breath and let it go, a massive sigh. You looked up at him, the world beginning to spin.

“You wanna get back to it?” he asked.

“Uh,” you said, stomach churning. “I’m actually — I’m gonna puke.”

“What?”

You rolled off the bed and got shakily to your feet, leaving the room and hunting for the nearest bathroom.

You found it just in time to puke in the toilet.

“Oh, baby,” Belch said, rushing after you and putting a hand on your back. “I didn’t know you’d drank that much.”

“Me neither,” you moaned, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and flushing the toilet just before you threw up, again.

Belch stayed by you, patting your back. Then, he stood. You grabbed his leg for a moment, frantic, before he pried your hand off of him.

“I’m gonna go find the guys,” he said. “I’m taking you home.”

“Fuck,” you groaned.

You didn’t want to go home, but he was probably right. It was probably what you needed to do.

He left you there, your forehead on the toilet seat, thinking about how many asses had been there before you.

God, what a shitty ending to a pretty good night.

“You had the punch, didn’t you?” came a snarky voice from the door.

You looked up.

“Patrick,” you said. “Help me up, I’m done throwing up.”

He gave a heaving sigh, then came over and hauled you up by one armpit. You leaned heavily on him.

“Where’s Reggie?” you asked.

“Don’t know who you’re talking about,” he said.

“Fuck you. You _know_ who I’m talking about. My fucking boyfriend. The one you assholes call _Belch_.”

“He’s downstairs trying to pull Vic away from his new boyfriends. Do you know that weirdo has two boyfriends, now?”

“Yeah, I heard. Good for him. Whoopee.”

He helped you down the stairs, Henry stomping after you. When you got there, they helped you out the front door, down the steps, and out to the car. You leaned, sore and tired, against the passenger side door, waiting for Belch.

He arrived, shaking his head.

“Vic’s staying with Josh and Tom.”

“Tim,” you said, a hand over your eyes.

“Fine, Tim.” He sighed. “Let’s go.”

Grumbling, the boys got in the back seat while you waited. Then, Belch helped you into the passenger seat, a hand on the back of your head like a cop so you wouldn’t bang it.

He drove Patrick and Henry to Patrick’s house, waving goodbye without a word.

Then, he drove you home.

You got out of the car on your own, assuming he was just dropping you off. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and got out.

You assumed again that he was just being polite, helping you in the door.

“Okay,” you said. “You can go. I’m fine.”

“Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“You really think I’m gonna leave you right now?”

You looked at him, confused.

That’s what Julian would have done.

He must have seen it in your expression, and his eyes turned hard for a second.

“I’m not him. I’d never do that to you.”

You leaned until your chest was on his forehead, the closest thing to a hug you had the energy for. He sighed, and hugged you, gently, gently.

Then he picked you up and carried you upstairs. This time, you weren’t giggling. You were exhausted and your mouth tasted like bile.

He set you down on the counter in the bathroom, handing you the toothbrush in the cup.

“Brush your teeth,” he said, crossing his arms.

He watched as you slowly scrubbed your mouth clean, spitting when you were done and putting your toothbrush away.

Then, he helped you off the counter and into your bedroom. You shakily plugged your fairy lights in instead of turning on the overhead light and pulled your shirt off.

You flopped onto the bed, your still-shoed feet hanging off the end.

“’Kay. G’night,” you said with a yawn.

“Baby,” he laughed. “You’re not gonna sleep good like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like — Jesus. Lemme just —”

He bent down and pulled your boots off, then pulled on your hands until you stood up. He undid your pants and carefully pulled them down, helping you step out of them until you stood in front of him in nothing more than your underwear.

“Babe,” you said. “I don’t think this is the best time.”

He laughed again.

“Baby, you really thought…? No. Not right now. You’re not feeling good, I wouldn’t.”

“Okay,” you said.

Then you flopped down on the bed again, rolling over and pulling the covers around you.

He sighed and laid down beside you on the bed, pulling you in with an arm around your middle.

“We’ll fuck,” you said. “Eventually. I promise, babe.”

“I know, baby. I know. We’ll get there.”

“I promise it wasn’t your dick that made me throw up.”

“I didn’t think it was.”

“I’m happy for Vic. And I’m kinda glad he interrupted us.”

“Me too. He deserves those guys.”

“Yeah.”

You thought for a moment, eyes drifting shut.

“I’m glad you’re here. I like you a lot.”

“I like you, too, baby.”

“Cool.”

You drifted off.

You woke to sun streaming in your window. You were on top of Belch, blankets in a mess around you. You yawned and stretched — and then the headache hit you. And your neck hurt — it hurt just to make the little movement to yawn, to stretch.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

You got up, hunting around for your sunglasses. You found them, put them on, and found a clean t-shirt in the pile of clean things you kept in the corner. When you got it on, you sighed and went to the bathroom, sparing Belch a glace as you did.

You methodically wiped away the makeup you’d been wearing last night. Your lipstick didn’t want to budge — god bless it, it wasn’t supposed to last night, but today, today you needed it gone. And your eye makeup was streaked — you remembered tears building up when you were puking.

Once last night’s face was gone, you went back to your bedroom and closed the blinds. You put the sunglasses on your bedside table and got on top of Belch, straddling his hips with one hand on his chest.

“Babe,” you said, one hand at the side of his face. “Babe, wake up.”

He cracked his eyes and smiled at you.

“Well, hey there, baby.”

“Hey yourself,” you said.

“You must be feeling better,” he said.

“Not really. Hungover as fuck and my neck hurts from puking. But I’m still happy to have you in my bed.”

You grinned and shifted against him, feeling him hard under you.

“Looks like you’re happy, too,” you said.

He laughed.

“Sure am, baby. C’mere and kiss me.”

You leaned down and kissed him, a light little thing. You pulled back, grinning. He playfully scowled at you and pulled you down for a real kiss, licking at your lips, your tongue, the roof of your mouth. You sighed into it.

You reached down between your legs for him. Again, you dragged your fingernails over the denim over him, and he took in a short breath.

“Baby, are you sure we should do this right now?” he asked.

“Why not?”

“I hear —”

“Starchild!” called your mom from the hallway. “Rise and shine! The day’s waiting on you!”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. You slowly pulled your hand away from Belch’s bulge and set it on his chest.

Then she opened your door. Belch blushed until his face was nothing but red.

“Oh, Reggie. We thought you’d be here,” she said. “We saw your car. I love it, by the way.”

“I do, too. Amy’s my favorite thing. I hope you don’t mind I stayed over, ma’am. We had kinda a rough night.”

“Oh?”

“I drank too much and ended up throwing up,” you said.

“I take it you learned your lesson?”

“Moderation is key, but I already knew that. Mostly, don’t drink anything that you can’t taste the alcohol in.”

“That’s my kid. I trust you to be smart in the future.”

You smiled.

“I will be.”

“Well, your dad and I are leaving for work soon. You two come down and say hi.”

“We will, ma’am,” said Belch.

When she was gone, he looked at his watch. And then, he groaned.

“Fuck,” he said. “I gotta get changed and go to work.”

“Don’t you wanna stay here with me for a little bit?” you pouted, your hand going again to the front of his pants.

“Course I do, baby. But I need this job.”

He didn’t move your hand, though, so you undid his pants. When you reached in to pull out his dick, he finally caught you by the wrist.

“Baby,” he warned.

“C’mon,” you whined. You were definitely pushing it, and you knew it. “Please?”

“You know I want to. But I can’t.”

He tried to sit up, and you pushed him down playfully.

“Baby,” he said, trying not to laugh. “You keep being a brat, and I’m gonna give you a fucking spanking.”

You gasped, a little frightened but also delighted.

“Well, that’s not what I expected,” he said. “You want that?”

“Maybe,” you said, smiling.

“Uh huh. That looks like a big _yes_ to me.”

“Maybe,” you said again.

“C’mon, baby. We gotta say hi to your dad, and if you keep trying to get in my pants, I’m not gonna be able to look him in the eye.”

You laughed and finally rolled off of him, hunting around for a pair of pajama pants.

You put them on as he got up and stretched.

Then, you went downstairs to say goodbye to your parents as they left for work.

They left, and Belch got his keys, ready to go.

“I mean it,” he said. “I’ll spank you if I have to.”

You smiled.

“Well, here’s hoping you don’t have to.”

He kissed you, pulling you in with a hand on your ass. You smiled into the kiss, and then he pulled away.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

And then, he left.


	9. eight

That night, after work, Belch called you.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, babe. What’s up?”

“Do you, uh. Do you wanna meet my mama?”

You grinned and looked across the room, meeting your own eye in the mirror.

“Of _course_ , I do. I’d love to meet her.”

“Cool. She’s frying up some chicken. That sound good?”

Your stomach growled loudly at the mention of the first meat you would have eaten in months.

“Oh my god,” you said, one hand on your stomach. “Fuck yes, it sounds good.”

He laughed.

“Okay. Can you be here in ten?”

You looked in the mirror again.

“Uh, make it fifteen?” you asked. “No, twenty.”

You had to throw on some makeup. You hadn’t planned on leaving the house and had gone around with a bare face the entire day.

He laughed again.

“You have to put your face on, don’t you?”

You pretended to pout.

“You want your mom to like me, don’t you?”

“She’d love you if you came over in a paper bag, I think.”

It was your turn to laugh.

“Well, okay. We’ll see what I can do.”

You hung up and quickly ran to your desk, swiping on something — anything that would look better than your plain face. It’s not that you didn’t like your bare face, it was that it wasn’t part of your look.

Besides, Belch was dating a goth. His mom could either deal with it, or not. It wasn’t your business, but you weren’t going to pretend to be something you weren’t for anyone. Not even Belch’s mom.

You ended up at Belch’s house in twenty minutes. He and a nice-looking lady were waiting on the front porch. You were sure that was his mom, and you fixed an easy smile on your face.

You were nervous. God help you.

“Hi,” you said, walking up the steps to the house. You held out a hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, put that down,” she said, opening her arms. “Give me a hug, honey.”

You grinned and looked at Belch. He smiled. You opened your arms and Mrs. Huggins pulled you into tight hug, swaying back and forth.

“Gosh, I knew you’d be cute — Reggie has good taste — but I didn’t know you’d be so _gorgeous_ ,” she said, stepping back and getting a good look at you.

“Oh, thank you, ma’am,” you said, blushing furiously.

“Well, come on,” she said, taking you by the hand and pulling you into the house. “Dinner’s on the table.”

She pulled you past Belch, and you looked at him. Then, you winked. He cocked his head to the side, eyebrows drawn together.

You were going to have a _lot_ of fun.

You were going to get that spanking if it was the last thing you’d do.

You sat next to Belch at the dinner table, and Mrs. Huggins fixed you plates, asking you questions the whole time. What did you call this look you had going on? Well, that made sense. How did you meet Reggie? He treats you right, doesn’t he? I didn’t raise him to be anything other than a gentleman.

You giggled at that, knowing that Belch could be less than a gentleman when he chose to be.

You sat with one hand on his knee, his hand on top of yours, rubbing it with his thumb.

Slowly, as you ate, your hand moved up higher and higher. Belch shifted restlessly in his seat more and more the closer your hand got to his crotch.

Finally, your hand ended up where you wanted it to be — right over his slowly hardening cock. You rubbed little circles with your thumb, keeping the same pleasant look on your face as you continued to talk to Mrs. Huggins.

He cleared his throat but didn’t look at you. Mrs. Huggins didn’t notice anything.

After all of you were done eating, Mrs. Huggins left for work — she was a night nurse at the local hospital. You got up and hugged her to thank her for dinner, and you heard Belch let out a sigh. He hugged her and you both stood on the porch, watching and waving as she left.

When she was good and gone, Belch turned to you, fire in his eyes.

“Baby,” he said.

“Yes?” you asked, feigning innocence.

He sighed and dragged you inside, then to his room. He sat down on the bed, and you stood in between his legs.

“I —” he started. Then, he swallowed, hard. “That was very, very naughty of you.”

You grinned.

“Oh, I know.”

“I wanna spank you so bad, baby. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

You nodded and took his hat off, running a hand through his hair. You tossed the hat across the room and he smiled up at you, tight.

“But we gotta talk first,” he said.

“About what?” you asked, eyebrows together.

“Did he — did that asshole ever do this to you? I know… I know he hit you, but…”

“Oh, no. We never got into this.”

“No?” He searched your face. You were trying not to be concerned for him. “But he hit you.”

“I never asked for it,” you said. Then, you sat on one of his knees, your legs on either side. You slowly began grinding down on him, and he smiled. “I never asked him to spank me, babe. But I want _you_ to. Don’t you think I deserve it? Don’t you think I’ve been _bad_?”

“You’ve been very bad, baby. Stand up.”

You did.

“Take your pants off. Underwear, too.”

You grinned, pushing your pants and underwear down, standing there bare from the waist down.

“Mm. Fuck, baby. How ‘bout you take everything else off, too?”

You smiled wider and did it. He grabbed you by the waist and turned you around. You reached out and put your hands on the dresser in front of you, bending over just barely. He groaned, both hands on your ass, squeezing.

“Got such a perfect ass, baby. Such a shame I’m gonna hafta beat it red.”

You wiggled your ass, looking over your shoulder at him.

“Yeah,” you said. “Such a _shame_ you gotta spank me.”

“Get over my lap,” he commanded. “Now.”

You turned around.

“Can I have a kiss first?” you asked.

“Mm. No. Kisses are for when you’ve been good. And you’ve been very, very bad, baby.”

You pouted.

“Not even a little kiss?”

“No, baby. Get over my lap. Now.”

You did it, positioning yourself with your ass up over one of his legs, your chest on the other. You wiggled, trying to get comfortable. Seemed like that wasn’t really an option.

He smoothed a hand over your bare ass, and you were struck by how big his hands were.

“What you thinking ‘bout, baby?” he asked.

“You have really big hands. This is gonna hurt.”

“Mm. But you deserve it, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Touching me in front of my mama. What if she’d seen?”

“I don’t know.”

“No. You don’t.”

He slapped your ass, a short little burst of pain before the dull ache set in.

“Ow,” you whined.

“Keep whining,” he said. “See where it gets you. Naughty little thing.”

You wiggled your ass again, sending him a grin over your shoulder.

“Uh huh,” he said.

Then he spanked you again, setting in mercilessly. Fuck, it hurt. Fuck, his hands were so big. The one he was using to spank you nearly covered your whole ass in one stroke.

“Ow,” you said. “Ow, fuck!”

He kept on spanking you.

“You’ve been so bad, baby. You deserve this, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’ve been bad.”

“Tell me _thank you_ for this. For having to discipline you.”

“Thank you,” you whined, pushing up into his hand. He was just rubbing your ass, taking a short break.

Then, he started in again, harder than before.

“Fuck!” you yelled.

You fought your instinct to try and get away, leaning into the pain. You were breathing with it, in while you waited for his hand to come down, out when it arrived.

“Your ass is so _red_ , baby,” he said.

Then, he gave you five quick swats.

“I think that’s enough, don’t you, baby?”

“Yeah,” you said weakly.

“Sit up.”

You did, pushing yourself up and sitting in his lap, curling into it.

He ran a hand down your curved back, and you tucked your head under his chin.

“What’d we learn, hm?”

“Not to flirt with you in front of your mom.”

“Oh, you can flirt with me. She wouldn’t mind that. Just don’t feel me up, okay? That coulda gone wrong.”

You sighed.

“Okay,” you said. You kicked your feet.

“Guess what?” he said.

“Hm?”

“We have the house to ourselves.”

“Oh? Oh!”

“Yeah. No one to stop us. And you’re not sick or sleepy, are you?”

You lifted your face to smile at him.

“No,” you said. “No, I’m not.”

“Well, then, baby. How you wanna do this?”

You thought about it. Then, you got on your knees in front of him.

“I see you already made up your mind,” he laughed.

“Yup.”

You undid his pants, reaching in and pulling out his cock. It was already hard, and you got to it, licking a thick stripe up from the base to the tip.

Belch groaned, putting a hand in your hair.

“Fuck, baby,” he said.

You hummed, looking up at him. He had his other hand bunched in the bedding beside him. You bobbed your head, taking it further and tonguing along the underside.

You were at that for a minute before Belch pulled you off, a hand in your hair.

“Baby,” he said, panting. “If you — fuck, if you keep going like that, we’re not gonna get to do anything else.”

“Well, what do you wanna do?” you asked.

“Sit on my face for a minute so I can calm down,” he said.

You grinned.

“Okay,” you said, standing.

He got positioned on the bed, his head on the pillow, waving you up. You went to kneel, knees on either side of his head. He pulled you down onto his mouth, tonguing at your hole. You sighed and put your hands on the wall in front of you, just letting him go for it.

He pushed his tongue into you, hands hooked around your thighs. Fuck, but he was good with his mouth. After only a minute, you were a shaking, begging mess.

He pulled off you.

“You want something, baby?” he asked, teasing you.

“Fuck, _Reggie_ , fuck, just fuck me already,” you pleaded.

“How bad you want it?”

“Please! God, please, I want you inside me, please.”

“Okay, baby. Okay.”

He sat up, and you walked backwards on your knees, steadying yourself with a hand on his shoulder. Your legs were wrapped around him, feet on the bed. He shuffled, pulling his pants down and then off, throwing his boxers with them.

“You ready, baby?” he asked.

“Yeah. Please,” you said, breathing hard. “Wait, no. Do you have protection?”

He smiled and reached over to his bedside table, pulling out a condom. He ripped the package open with his teeth and rolled it on.

“Now,” he said. “You ready?”

You nodded, frantic.

He lined up with your hole and slowly pulled you down on him. God, he was so big. You had to really stretch to fit him. When you were all the way down, he just kept you like that for a moment, letting you adjust.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Fuck, you’re so _big_.”

He grinned.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Fuck.”

He slowly pulled you up his cock until only the head was inside you. Then, he dropped you. You threw your head back with a shout.

“Oh, fuck, Reggie!” you yelled.

“That’s it, baby. Lemme hear you scream.”

He pulled you up and down on his cock, fucking into you hard and fast. You took one of his hands off your waist and pulled a few of his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them.

“Mm,” he said. “You really like having something in your mouth, don’t you, baby?”

You nodded, holding his eye. Then, you took his fingers from your mouth and kissed him, hard, biting his lip. He groaned, still fucking into you.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, pulling away from the kiss. “I’m gonna come soon, but I want you to, first.”

“So make me come,” you said. “Please, please make me come.”

He took the fingers that you’d been sucking on and put them on you, stroking you hard and fast in time with him fucking you.

Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head as you came, chanting his name over and over.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it. That’s it, come for me,” he said.

He came soon after you, pulling you down so he was completely inside.

You kissed him. He sighed into it.

“Fuck, baby,” he said. “Fuck.”

“I know,” you laughed.

You were riding the high pretty hard, knowing that in a minute, you’d crash.

“You feel good?”

“I feel amazing. You?”

“Pretty fucking good.”

He pulled out of you and laid you on the bed next to him, taking the condom off and tying it before throwing it in the trash next to the bed.

Then, he laid down beside you, pulling you into his arms. You snuggled into him.

“Babe,” you said.

“Mm?”

“You’re still wearing your shirt. And socks.”

He laughed.

He sat up to take them off and pulled the blankets over you.

“I,” you said, “am going to take a short nap.”

“Jesus, did I fuck you that hard?”

“You fucked me that _good_ , yeah.”

“Well, okay, baby. I’ll be here.”

“You better be.”

When you woke up, he was there, gently playing with your hair.

You kissed him goodbye, going home. Your parents were there, waiting for you.

“Guess who got laid?” you asked.

“I’m gonna guess… you?” asked your mom.

“Hell yeah,” you said, putting up a hand. She high fived you, and so did your dad, smiling.

“And you were safe?” she asked.

“We were. Don’t worry.”

“I never worry about you, starchild.”

“I know.”

On Monday before school, you found the guys and had a smoke, waiting for Vic to show up. Patrick was whispering something in Henry’s ear when he walked up, both hands being held by separate boys.

“Guys,” Vic said. “This is Josh and Tim.”

He nodded to each boy as he said their names. Josh was a mixed boy with longer, curly hair. Tim was a painfully tall boy with an undercut, curly locks flopping over his eyes. He had a shy smile as he looked at all of you, eyes catching on yours. You gave him a little smile and a wave, and he seemed to relax just a bit.

“Josh, Tim, this is… everyone,” said Vic, gesturing widely to all of you.

“You lucky boys,” Patrick drawled.

“That’s Patrick,” said Vic. “He’s not fucking me, no matter what he says.”

Josh let out a short laugh, and Patrick shrugged, going back to whatever he’d been saying to Henry. Henry laughed, and you looked at them.

“So, who’s the bitch in this relationship?” asked Henry, flicking a wrist at the three boys in front of you.

You gave him a sharp look. If he noticed, he didn’t care. The three boys looked at each other, shrugging.

“We all are,” said Tim quietly.

“You sure, sugar? ‘Cause it looks like it’s you,” said Patrick.

“Patrick,” said Vic, dropping his boyfriends’ hands. “Fuck with him, and you fuck with me.”

“You know I can take you.”

“With a knife, maybe. But on your own, I can, I will, and I _have_ beaten your ass.”

“You better stop talking so sweet to me. I’m gonna blush,” Patrick drawled.

“I’m just gonna leave,” said Tim.

He obviously didn’t like what was going on.

“You sure, baby?” asked Josh.

Vic turned to them. He put a hand on the side of Tim’s face, whispering something to him that you didn’t catch. Tim nodded, avoiding his eye. Josh put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the group. Vic pressed a short kiss to Tim and Josh’s cheeks before they left, waving after they were gone. Then, he turned back to Patrick and gave him a shove.

“What? Your precious princess not like it? He not know who the fuck you are, Criss?” asked Patrick.

“Patrick, you absolutely useless asshole. You blew it. You fucking blew it!”

“Boys, calm down,” you said.

They ignored you.

“Things were fucking fine,” Vic growled, pushing Patrick again. “Things were fine, and then you had to scare him.”

“He should be scared. If he’s not scared of us, what’s the fucking point?” asked Henry, bored. He actually yawned.

“Look, you might not have a world outside the bullshit we do, but I do. I want more,” said Vic. He suddenly looked incredibly tired, like the years of bullyhood were weighing down on him.

“If you don’t like it, leave,” said Patrick.

Vic looked to Henry. Everyone did, even you.

“Leave,” said Henry.

Vic looked away, swallowing.

“Fine,” he said. “Fine. Fuck you guys.”

He flipped you off with both hands and ran after his boyfriends.

You turned to Belch, a question on your face. He shook his head, telling you not to ask.

You wondered if that was really the end. If you’d see him again.

In English, your teacher excitedly announced that you’d all be working in partners on the next project. Then, she split you up.

You ended up with a shy girl named Sophia. She wore a lot of pink, and had a small bow holding back a section of her hair.

She was so much your opposite that you laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“No — it’s nothing. Just — look at us,” you said.

She laughed.

“It’s like night and day,” she agreed.

Good thing she was a hard worker. And fast — at the pace she worked, you wouldn’t have to do any work outside of class.

After three days, with spring break looming in front of you, you approached her in the hall, when she was at her locker.

She jumped when you said her name. Like she was expecting someone else.

“Oh, hi,” she said.

“Hi,” you said. “Look, I uh. I’m throwing this party this Friday, and I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

“A party? Me?”

“Yeah, you. Who else?”

“No, I just. Look at me,” she said. “I’ve — I’ve never even been invited to a party before… much less gone to one.”

Your heart broke just a little bit. She was a really nice girl — you couldn’t imagine why no one would invite her.

“Well, I want you to come,” you said. “Gimme your number. I’ll text you my address.”

“What time will it start?” she asked.

“Uh, be there after ten?”

“Oh. _Oh_. That’s what kind of party it is,” she said.

You were dumbstruck.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s what kind of party it is. Did you — what kind of party did you think it was?”

“A birthday party?”

“Oh, oh my god. You have so much to learn.”

You ended up telling her what to wear, since she had no idea about any of this. You told her what to expect, to find you and at least know where you were if she wasn’t with you. You didn’t think those guys who’d harassed you would be there, but guys like them were a dime a dozen.

You split from her and went to lunch.

Vic still wasn’t there. No one talked about it, but the mood was deflated. He was important to the group. Without him, something important was missing.

You missed him already.


	10. nine

You were lucky — the Friday of your party, the one that let you go into spring break, was an early release. Belch had a few hours of work after school, and you said goodbye to him with a kiss.

When you got home, the house was decorated like it was Halloween, the only way you ever decorated for anything. You grinned, walking from room to room, touching fake cobwebs here, a string of light there. You found your parents in the kitchen, waiting for you. They’d decorated for you, your dad still untangling lights when you arrived.

“How’s it look, sweet bean?” asked your dad.

“Perfect, as always,” you said.

You leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“We should be set,” said your mom.

She gestured to the counter behind her, where there sat a vast collection of alcohol. You grinned. You’d saved up your allowance just for this, and they’d agreed to buy for you.

“Awesome,” you said.

You started in on making witch’s brew, the only punch you ever made for things like this.

You hoped it wouldn’t be too weird, presenting it all like a Halloween party in the middle of spring. You hoped people would like it.

Your parents were already packed, ready for their trip down to see their parents.

“Say hey to them for me,” you said, standing in the door of your parents’ room, watching them double-check their bags.

“You know we will, starchild,” your mom said.

“I know. I just miss them,” you said.

You were sad you wouldn’t get to see them, but it had been decided that you’d stay behind and watch the house. Your grandparents lived all together on a sprawling farm near Portland, nearly self-sufficient. Your parents rarely ever got to see them, and had taken the entire week of spring break off, despite their shop having to be closed to the holiday shoppers.

“I know, sweet bean. You’ll get to see them soon,” said your dad.

They left, waving as they drove away.

A few hours later, you were completely ready.

The guys showed up.

Well, minus Vic. You hoped he knew he was still invited. You hoped he knew that there was no bad blood between you. You wanted him to come, badly. Him and his boyfriends. At the very least, Josh would benefit from showing up — he could sell out on your back porch.

You kissed Belch hello and pulled him onto the couch to wait for people to show.

And they did — more people than you’d expected. And they liked how you had the house done up — green fairy lights on every wall, a strobe light facing the stairs, your playlist on. It was a good mix between your taste and what was actually popular, and you hoped no one would mind.

About an hour in, you were on the back porch, and Sophia wandered out, swaying just a little bit.

“Oh, Jesus,” you hissed. You’d completely forgotten about her. “Oh, Jesus, please, just — please be nice to her.”

“To who?” asked Patrick, searching the small crowd.

You saw the moment his eyes fell on her — you could tell, instantly, how interested he was. Poor fucking girl.

You watched the same reaction in Henry and swore under your breath.

“She’s never even been to a party before, so please, don’t ruin her night,” you said, just before she arrived at your group. “Hey!”

“Hey!” she said. “I’m here!”

“You are,” you said.

“I wore black for you,” she said. She gestured to the little black dress she was in.

You smiled.

“You look great,” you said.

“So do you!” She pointed at the chain you had hanging between your septum piercing and your ear. “That’s so cool.”

“Thanks. You having fun?”

“Yeah!” she said. “I took a couple shots and I feel really good now.”

“Good,” Patrick said. Actually, he practically purred.

You held back a grimace. It seemed Henry wasn’t enough, not that Henry minded. Henry was on the same page as him, reaching out and taking her hand. She jumped, a little surprised.

“Uh, hi,” she said, softly, looking him up and down. Then, she smiled. “You’re cute.”

You looked at Belch. He was appropriately amused.

“I can say the same thing for you, sweetheart.”

She grinned.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Patrick. “Heard this was your first party. How ‘bout we show you a good time?”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, I’m not sure.”

“No?” said Henry. His smile said _yes_.

“It’s just,” she said. “I’m already here, and I’m already tipsy, I think. And I wanna be bad, but your face tells me you want me to be _very_ bad.”

“Smart girl,” said Patrick.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, still smiling. “How bad do you want me to be?”

He laughed like that was the best thing he’d ever heard, and Henry pulled her in until she was leaning on him, one hand on his chest. Patrick put a hand on her hip and whispered in her ear. She giggled, actually giggled. Henry licked a stripe up her neck and she laughed, long and bright.

You got the feeling she knew exactly what she was getting into. But you didn’t know for sure.

“Sophia,” you said.

Her eyes snapped over to you.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful,” you said. “Those guys…”

“Don’t worry,” she said, looking at Patrick. “I know what I’m doing.”

She really didn’t, though.

Patrick looked at you.

“Can we borrow your room?” he asked.

“What happens if I said no?” you asked.

“I pick the lock.”

“Then by all means, go ahead.”

He grinned and pulled Sophia by the hand behind him. You lit up a cigarette, watching as they went, Henry pulling up the rear. He grinned over his shoulder at you and Belch. He mouthed, or whispered, _thank you_.

You shrugged.

“They’re going to fuck her, aren’t they?” you asked Belch.

“Yup.”

“And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you said, then taking a drag on your cigarette. “That’s that, I guess.”

Five minutes later, out the back door came Vic, a bottle of vodka in hand and boyfriends in tow.

“Vic!” you cried. “Holy shit!”

He grinned, looking a little bit careful.

“Henry and Patrick here?” he asked in lieu of saying hello.

“They’re upstairs fucking my English partner,” you said.

He laughed, tension melting from his shoulders. He held out a hand to Belch and they did that thing that starts as a short handshake and ends as a hug, both pounding the other’s back.

“It’s nice to see you guys again,” you said to Tim and Josh.

“You too,” said Tim quietly.

Josh had a backpack on, and slipped it off his shoulder, sitting next to a circle of smokers and getting set up.

“Well, c’mon,” you said, putting out your cigarette and grabbing Vic and Tim both by the hand, pulling them back into the house. “Let’s put that vodka to good use.”

The music was loud, pounding into your eardrums as you went back into the fray. People smiled at you as you walked past, and one guy even raised his plastic cup of whatever to you. You smiled.

You got into the kitchen and set to making another batch of witch’s brew, stirring in the vodka and lime jello packets. Vic and Tim watched you, holding hands. You turned away for a moment and when you looked back, they were kissing, pressed up close to each other. You smiled, happy for them.

You hoped that things would be okay. That Vic would come back for real. That this wasn’t just a one-night thing.

You finished making the punch, and pulled Vic and Tim, laughing, into the living room, where people were dancing and sitting around. You danced with them.

“What is this?” asked Tim, yelling to be heard over the music. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

“Siouxsie and the Banshees,” you answered. “Goth shit.”

“It’s nice. I might have to check them out,” he said, bobbing his head.

You grinned.

“You should. Some of my favorite shit.”

The song ended, and something popular started up. People cheered and flooded into the living room to dance. Vic pulled Tim close to grind on him, and you left them there, going to get a drink before going out to the back porch where you’d left Belch.

He was sitting on the swing, his back up against one of the armrests. You got on the swing, sitting between his legs, carefully balancing your drink in one hand. He took it from you and took a sip.

“So how d’you think the party’s going?” he asked.

You looked up at him. His eyes were sparkling.

“Good,” you said, digging in your pockets for your cigarettes. You lit one up, and he took it from you, taking a drag.

He must have had something to drink, then. He must be on his way to drunk.

“That punch you make is serious business,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Fuck yeah. I actually feel a little bit drunk.”

“Wow. Fuck,” you said, taking your cigarette back and having a drag.

“Yeah.”

You sat there, watching as Josh finalized a sale, smiling vaguely. Then, he held out a hand, a joint in it, to you.

“Care to sample my newest strain?” he asked.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you said, taking the joint from him.

You lit it up after snuffing out your cigarette. You took a puff, succeeding in not coughing on the exhale. You passed it to Belch and he took a drag.

Fifteen minutes later, you were cuddled into Belch’s chest, his fingers dragging over and over again up and down one of your arms. You sighed, watching the smokers and stoners mill about and talk. You felt so good.

The end of the swing moved and you looked over your shoulder to see who was disturbing you.

It was Sophia, her hair a mess and her dress a little off kilter.

“Hi,” she said.

“Mm,” you said. “Hey there, you.”

She laughed. “Are you drunk?”

“High,” you said.

“Hi. Are you drunk?”

“No,” you laughed. “I meant I’m high.”

“Oh,” she said.

You sat up to look at her better, and Belch pulled you into his chest, grumbling. You laughed, pushing back into his embrace. Patrick and Henry were standing at the end of the swing, both smiling tiredly. Patrick’s hair was a mess. Henry wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Those boys,” said Sophia. “You weren’t kidding.”

You laughed.

“I told you,” you said. “Nothing but trouble.”

You reached for your drink.

“I didn’t think I’d end up losing my virginity to two guys at a party, though, I gotta say,” she said.

You almost spat out your drink.

“Jesus, Sophia!” you cried. “You seriously — with _them_?”

“Who else?” she laughed.

You glared at Patrick and Henry.

“You treated her right?” you asked. “If not, I’ll beat your asses as soon as I’m sober.”

Henry scoffed.

“We made her come, if that’s what you mean,” he said.

“Three times,” said Sophia.

“That’s… that’s not what I meant,” you said. “There’s other things just as important as coming.”

“Hush,” she said. “I had a good time.”

You looked her over and spotted twin hickeys on each side of her neck.

“Yeah, you did,” said Patrick, coming up behind her and winding his long arms around her, hands grazing her chest. “We treated you just fine, didn’t we, baby?”

“ _Baby_?” you asked before Sophia had a chance to respond. “Is this a thing now?”

Sophia looked up at Patrick, smiling gently. He looked down at her, hungry.

“Yeah,” said Henry. “It’s a thing.”

“Well,” you said. “Okay.”

Just then, Vic and Tim came out the back door. They stopped short at the sight of Patrick and Henry. The guys followed your gaze, turning around to see them.

You swallowed, hard, ready for the worst.

“Hey, asshole,” said Henry.

“Hey, Henry,” said Vic. The way he said it made it sound so much worse than _asshole_.

“Hi,” said Tim. You could tell he was trying to be brave.

“Oh, hi,” said Sophia to Tim. “I know you.”

Taken aback, Vic looked between her and Tim.

“Yeah?” he asked, a little amused.

“History. With me and Patrick.”

“Yeah,” said Tim. He looked like there was anything he’d rather be remembering other than having to be in the same room as Patrick for forty-five minutes every day.

“Well, isn’t that sweet?” said Henry.

Vic grimaced.

“Henry, please,” he said.

“Please, what?” Henry snapped.

“I — I want to put this stupid shit behind us,” said Vic, obviously flaying himself alive to even say that.

You watched, amazed.

“Why? You miss us?” drawled Patrick.

“Against what I actually want, yeah,” said Vic, looking tired. “I miss you guys. You’re my friends, and I miss you. Happy?”

“Not really, but whatever,” said Henry. “You’re back in, but don’t pull that shit again.”

You watched as Vic held back a sigh. You held a hand out to him, the one holding the joint.

“Vic, c’mere,” you said. “Get high with us.”

He smiled and came over to you, taking the joint from you and holding a hand out to Josh. Josh handed him a lighter, and he lit the joint, taking a deep drag.

Everything was okay.

When the party was over, and everyone was gone, you went upstairs with Belch to clumsily strip the sheets from your bed and put them in the laundry. Your brain, still very much high, suggested that you just throw them away, since Patrick, Henry, and Sophia had fucked on them.

You laughed, and Belch asked what was up.

“I just —” you gasped. “I just — I want to just throw them away.”

He laughed, big and loud. Absolutely roaring with laughter, bent over, clutching his side.

“No, baby,” he said. “I don’t think you should. C’mon, we’ll put them in the wash.”

You went down to the laundry room and stuffed the sheets into the washer, pouring detergent in after. Sophia, Patrick, and Henry were quietly talking, Sophia sitting on the kitchen counter. Henry stood between her spread knees, a hand inching up the bottom of her dress. She beamed with the attention.

“You guys heading out, or are you staying here?” you asked.

“We’re going to Patrick’s,” said Sophia.

“Okay,” you said, going out to the back porch.

Tim and Josh were kissing, Vic lazily watching them.

“Vic,” you said. He looked at you. “You guys staying here, or what?”

“We’re going back to Josh’s place.”

“Cool.”

In ten minutes, it was just you and Belch, alone in your house.

You pulled him upstairs and set to making your bed again. You pulled out your special sheets, the ones you rarely if ever used, they were so nice. Black and silky — after you and Julian had finally ended things, you’d slept on them for a month to soothe yourself.

“Wow, baby,” said Belch, running a hand over them. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” you said.

“No, I mean, _fuck_ ,” he said. “Wanna see you naked on these so bad.”

You grinned, biting your lip. Then, you slowly took your clothes off, ending up completely bare. You crawled onto your bed and sat, legs in front of you, looking at him. Watching him watching you. He looked hungry.

He pulled his shirt off over his head and crawled onto the bed, spreading your legs, holding them open.

He licked a short stripe over your hole, and you groaned, putting a hand in his hair, holding him there as he slowly ate you out, hands on your hips.

“Taste so good, baby,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Yeah?” you asked, already breathless, your empty hand clutching at the silky sheets under you.

“My favorite taste in the entire world,” he said.

Then, he pushed his tongue into you. You moaned, throwing your head back and fucking yourself onto it.

“Fuck, _Reggie_ ,” you gasped. “Fuck, yeah. Yeah, keep doing that.”

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he said. “So fucking good.”

“Fuck.”

He finished eating you out, putting a hand on you and stroking you hard and fast. You came with a strangled shout.

He came up and kissed you, licking at your lips. You moaned into it.

“Fuck, babe,” you said. “Fuck me so good.”

He smiled.

“Oh, we’re not done,” he said.

“I know,” you said, smiling.

He got off the bed and took his pants and boxers off after kicking off his shoes. Then he got back on the bed, kneeling in front of you.

“Want you to blow me, baby,” he said.

“Mm, sounds good.”

You got on your hands and knees, taking his cock into your mouth, bobbing your head, trying to take as much of it as you could. But it was so thick and long that you had serious trouble. Still, you tried, pushing your gag reflex to the side to get further down.

He groaned, both hands in your hair. His hips bucked, and he pulled out of your mouth.

You gasped for air, tears in your eyes, and he put a hand under your chin, making you look him in the eye.

“Wanna fuck your mouth, baby,” he said. “That okay?”

“Oh, god,” you groaned. “Please. Please, fuck my mouth.”

He smiled at you, putting the head of his cock to your lips. You opened wide, and he pushed inside, slow and shallow thrusts. You pushed forward, taking him deeper. He grabbed your hair and bucked his hips, fully fucking your mouth now. You choked, and he kept going.

You were at that for another couple of minutes before he pulled out, chuckling. He wiped the tears from your cheeks, and his fingers came away black.

“Your makeup’s all fucked, baby,” he said.

“That makes two of us,” you joked.

“Mm.”

He pushed you on your back, quickly pushing a finger, then another, into you. You moaned, one hand shooting up to grab onto your hair, pulling hard. He batted your hand away and pulled your hair for you.

“Fuck, Reggie,” you said. “Fuck me, please? I want you inside me.”

“Okay, baby. Okay.”

He got up and got a condom out of the pocket of his jeans, opening it and rolling it onto his dick before getting back on the bed.

He lined up with your hole and slowly pushed in, letting you adjust for a moment after he was entirely inside you.

You breathed hard, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. You licked at his lips, his tongue.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“Mm hm. Hold on, baby. Gonna fuck you hard.”

“Oh, god. Please.”

He held your hips as he roughly fucked into you. You let out a short scream, one hand going up to slap over your mouth. He pulled it away.

“Nuh uh, baby,” he said. “Wanna hear it. Wanna hear everything.”

“ _Reggie_ ,” you whined. “Fuck, babe.”

He kept fucking you, little whines and moans pulled out of you. Then, he pulled almost all the way out and fucking slammed into you.

You fully screamed.

“Fuck!” you yelled. “Oh, my god, _fuck_!”

“That’s it, baby. Scream for me.”

He did it again, and again. Slamming into you again and again, to the sound of you screaming. Then, his hips stilled against your ass as he came with a gasp.

“Fuck, baby,” he said. “Feel so good around me.”

“Yeah?” you asked, gasping.

“Yeah,” he said, putting a hand on you and stroking.

You grabbed his other hand and took two fingers into your mouth, sucking on them, licking at them.

You came with a muffled wail around his fingers.

He finally pulled out of you, taking the condom off and tying it before flopping down on the bed beside you.

You were still breathing hard as he pulled you in, spooning up behind you.

“Fuck, babe,” you said.

“I know,” he said.

“Fuck.”

You drifted off in his arms.


	11. nine and a half

Henry watched, following behind, as Patrick led the girl up the stairs and into the empty bedroom. He locked the door as Patrick pulled her up against him, back to chest, kissing her neck sloppily.

He fought the jealousy. He was going to get something out of this, too.

Sophia turned in Patrick’s embrace and kissed him fully, sighing as Patrick’s tongue slid into her mouth. Henry watched, arms crossed over his chest.

“Come here,” said Sophia softly, holding a hand out to Henry.

He did, grabbing her hand and pulling her roughly up against his chest before kissing her hard. She let out a little squeak.

Poor girl didn’t know what the fuck she was doing. She’d probably never even been kissed before, but he could tell by the hesitant moves of her mouth on his that she was learning fast.

He pulled back from the kiss as Patrick came up behind her, his hands slipping into the small space between them, grabbing at her hips, lightly stroking over Henry’s bulge.

“Are you two?” she asked, wide eyes going from Patrick’s hands at the front of Henry’s pants to Henry’s eyes. “Is this?”

“We want you in on it, sweetheart,” Patrick purred. “How ‘bout it?”

Instead of answering, she kissed Henry again, tangling her hands up in his hair. Eyes closed, Henry could feel Patrick’s hands toying with the front of her dress. The kiss ended, and Sophia swallowed, breathing hard.

“Fuck,” she whispered. Then, her hand shot up to cover her mouth, eyes wide again.

“What?” Henry asked.

“I’m —” she said — “I’m not supposed to swear.”

Patrick laughed, delighted.

“Such a pure little girl,” he said. “You’re not supposed to fuck perfect strangers, either, but here we are.”

“No,” she said. “I’m — wow, I’m breaking a lot of rules right now.”

“You’re being so _bad_ , baby girl,” Patrick said, kissing her neck, eyes locked on Henry’s.

Henry grinned.

God, he wanted to tear this girl apart.

“Let’s get you out of that little dress, hm?” he asked, hands going to the bottom of it.

“Okay,” Sophia breathed.

Henry and Patrick’s hands met at the bottom of the dress, and they slowly peeled it up over her head.

Fuck. She wasn’t wearing a bra under it, just like Henry had thought.

But she was wearing sweet little cotton panties.

White.

God, she was so _pure_.

“Look at you, baby,” said Patrick. “Just look at you.”

She blushed.

“It’s just —” she said. “I’m nothing special.”

“Fuck that,” Henry barked. “You’re hot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, lips against hers.

He kissed her again, one hand going to slowly touch between her legs. She sucked in a breath, one hand going to his chest. He could feel her quickly getting wet. Just from kissing — and not much, at that.

“Let’s get you out of these panties, hm?” he asked.

“Okay,” she said softly, holding his eye.

Patrick pulled them down, and she put a hand on his shoulder as he helped her step out of them. When she was out of them, Patrick held them, bunched up in one hand, up to his nose. He breathed deeply, eyes fluttering closed.

“She smell good?” Henry asked.

“Mm,” said Patrick. “ _So_ good.”

Sophia turned between them, going to kiss Patrick. He kissed her, but only for a moment before pushing her toward the bed.

“Lay down, baby girl,” he said.

“Okay,” she said. She laid down, looking at them, legs firmly closed.

Henry rolled his eyes. This girl had a lot to learn.

Patrick pulled him into a deep kiss, licking at his lips before slipping his tongue into his mouth. Henry huffed, putting a hand in Patrick’s hair and pulling, hard. Patrick let out a little sigh, satisfied.

When the kiss broke, and they looked at Sophia, she was gently touching herself, legs spread just a little bit.

“You like that, baby?” Henry asked. “You like watching us?”

“Yeah,” she said, voice soft.

Patrick looked at him, then jerked his head towards her.

Henry didn’t need any more instructions than that. He grabbed her hips and pulled until she was on the edge of the bed, then kneeled between her legs. He licked a stripe over her pussy, and she gasped, one hand shooting to his hair. 

He kept eating her out, slowly working over her with his lips, his tongue. God, she tasted good. Fuck.

Patrick joined him after he sucked a hickey on her inner thigh. He pulled Henry away from her pussy to give him a short kiss, eyes burning. Then, he pushed two fingers into her.

She gasped, grabbing at his hair.

“Oh, oh my god,” she said. “So that’s — oh my _god_ , that’s what that feels like.”

“What, you’ve never fingered yourself, baby?” Henry asked.

“No,” she said shyly. “Never.”

“Fuck,” he said, watching Patrick’s long fingers easily slip in and out of her. “You’re doing great, baby. Look so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said.

Then he set to licking at her clit, chin bumping Patrick’s hand as he moved his fingers in her, curling them.

She moaned quietly, and then not so quietly. He could tell that she was getting close.

“Play with your tits, baby girl,” said Patrick, grinning that shark-toothed grin he had. That grin that put knots in Henry’s stomach.

“Um,” she said. “Like this?”

She grabbed each of her tits in one hand, squeezing, rubbing a thumb over each nipple.

“Yeah, baby,” said Henry. “Like that.”

“Let’s make her come, Henry,” said Patrick, his hand speeding up.

“Mm.”

Henry went back to licking at her, tongue working over her clit in short and fast strokes.

When she came, her cum covered his mouth, his chin, and Patrick groaned.

“Look at him,” he said. “Look at what you did.”

Shaking, she pushed up onto her elbows to look at Henry, face flushed.

“Oh, wow,” she said. “I — that’s my cum?”

“Yeah, it is, baby girl,” said Patrick. He licked it off Henry’s mouth, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

She sighed, watching them.

“You’re both so good together,” she said. She pushed herself up until she was sitting, then looked around. “Where are my panties?”

“Why?” asked Henry, breaking the kiss, but not pulling his hand from Patrick’s hair.

“I — are we not done?” she asked.

“Not even a little bit,” said Patrick. “I’m gonna fuck you.”

She swallowed.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby girl. I’m gonna fuck you, and Henry’s gonna fuck me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Then, she looked down at her hands.

“I really — I _really_ haven’t done anything like this before,” she said.

Henry laughed, a short thing.

“We know, baby,” he said, smoothing one hand over her thigh. “Never even kissed anyone before us, did you?”

“No,” she said. “No, I didn’t.”

“You’re gonna be good for us, aren’t you?” asked Patrick. “Good little girl for us.”

“Yeah.”

She looked at him with such a sweet light in her eyes that it made something go tight in Henry. Such a good girl.

Oh, but he was going to make her bad.

“Get on your back,” he said. “Touch yourself.”

She did it, without a second thought.

He stood, slowly taking off his clothes as he watched her curiously slide a finger into herself. Then, she slipped it out and put it in her mouth.

“Taste good, baby girl?” asked Patrick, pushing his pants down. Again, he wasn’t wearing underwear. He almost never did. Henry watched as he pulled out a condom and rolled it on.

“Yeah,” she said, sounding surprised.

“Best taste in the world,” Henry said. “Pussy’s the best.”

“And look at this pussy,” said Patrick. “How pretty it is.”

Sophia blushed.

“I don’t know about that,” she said.

“Your pussy’s perfect, baby girl. I mean it, and don’t you dare disagree with me.”

She had been about to argue with him, but snapped her mouth shut.

“What happens if I disagree with you?” she asked.

“I spank you raw.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “I — I kinda want that.”

“Oh?” asked Henry.

“Yeah…”

“We’ll get to it. But not right now,” said Patrick, crawling up onto the bed, hovering over her. He kissed her, a wet slide of tongue against tongue.

Then, he lined up with her hole and pushed in. She gasped, and then moaned.

“You like that, little girl? You like my cock in your pussy?” asked Patrick, grinning.

“Oh, oh my god. Yeah, yeah, I like it,” she gasped.

Patrick started fucking her, slowly. Short little drags, a couple of fingers stroking her clit.

Henry came to kneel behind them, pushing a finger, and then two into Patrick’s ass. Patrick let out a little huff, then pushed back on him. Henry pushed harder, fucking him harder with his fingers, letting the pressure of his hand push Patrick into Sophia.

“Just fuck me already,” said Patrick.

“Mm? Your ass already ready for me?” asked Henry.

“Yeah. C’mon, do it.”

Henry lined up with his hole and pushed in, a short thrust that pushed Patrick deeper into Sophia. She gasped.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” she said, a hand over her mouth.

“Like that, baby girl?” asked Henry. “Like us fucking you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I — um.”

“You want something?” asked Patrick.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I — um. I don’t know what feels good.”

Patrick looked over his shoulder to grin at Henry. God, they’d picked the right girl to take the virginity from.

“Well, you want it harder? Faster?” suggested Patrick.

He was being awfully patient with her. He must figure he’ll get more out of her that way.

“Um,” she said, thinking. “Harder?”

“We can do that,” said Henry, pulling back and slamming into Patrick, sending him deeper into Sophia.

She let out a little scream. It was very sweet, how she tried to hold it back.

They went at it like that for a minute before she came again, Patrick’s hand on her, with a little wail.

“Oh my god,” she gasped. “Fuck, I didn’t — I didn’t know I could come twice like that.”

“Best part about pussy,” said Patrick.

“Oh?”

“You can come a lot, baby,” said Henry. “A _lot_.”

“Oh. Okay. Wow.”

Henry kept fucking Patrick for a minute, then pulled out.

“Gonna come on your face, sweetheart,” he said.

“Oh,” she said.

“You know what? Me too,” said Patrick.

He grinned at Henry, and Henry knew exactly what he was thinking.

“We gotta mark you up, baby,” said Henry. “Make you ours.”

“This — this isn’t a one-time thing, is it?” she asked.

She looked like she desperately hoped it wouldn’t be.

“No, little girl. You’re ours,” said Patrick.

Patrick pulled out and kneeled over her. Henry walked over so he could jerk off over her face. They came at roughly the same time over her open mouth, hot stripes of cum painting her face. She looked so fucked. He looked down, and she was touching herself again, two fingers deep in her pussy.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “You like that? You like our cum on you?”

She nodded. Then, with her free hand, she swiped a stripe of cum off her cheek and licked it off her fingers. She closed her mouth like she was relishing the taste.

Patrick pulled Henry into a rough kiss. It was exactly what Henry needed — to confirm that they’d done it. They’d taken the virginity of a sweet girl together, and it had been great.

Then, Patrick broke the kiss and licked the cum off her face, ending with a rough kiss. Henry watched their tongues meet outside their mouths, a little jealous.

“Come down here and kiss me,” Sophia gasped when the kiss had ended.

“Say please,” Patrick barked.

“What happens if I don’t?” she asked slyly.

“Then I put you over my fucking knee and spank you until you cry, baby girl.”

She swallowed, hard. And then: “I don’t want to say please.”

Patrick rolled off of her and hauled her, face down, onto his lap. Henry watched as his hand came down on her ass, full force. She yelped.

“You better be sweet,” Patrick growled.

“Or _what_?” she asked.

His hand came down again — impossibly harder than the last. She let out a little scream, then covered her mouth. Henry yanked her hand away from her mouth, kneeling down to look her in the eye as Patrick’s hand kept coming down, one strike after another, her ass quickly reddening.

“You’re gonna scream,” he said. “You’re gonna scream, and we’re gonna hear you. Don’t try and cover it up.”

Patrick’s hand came down again and she let out a full wail, eyes wide.

“Please,” she said.

“Hm?” said Patrick. “You want something, baby girl?”

“I — I wanna come again,” she said, haltingly, in between strikes.

“Hear that, Henry? Little whore wants to come again,” said Patrick.

“I hear it,” said Henry. “And what does our little girl want? You want my fingers, or my mouth?”

She blushed, tears in her eyes as Patrick kept spanking her.

“Your mouth,” she gasped. “Please.”

“That’s right, baby girl. So polite,” said Patrick, finally stopping.

He easily manhandled her into sitting up, legs spread wide. Henry got on his stomach in between them, his mouth going to her pussy, tongue pushing in.

“Fuck, yeah,” she said.

“That feel good, little girl?”

“Yeah, I — oh my _god_ , Henry.”

“That’s it, baby,” Henry said, lips brushing up against her. “Say my fucking name when I make you come.”

“Henry,” she said. “Oh my god, Henry.”

Henry looked up at Patrick, whose eyes danced with a silent laugh. Then, he licked more of their cum off her face. She turned her head to kiss him, and he slid his tongue into her mouth, licking at her lips.

“Such a good girl for us, aren’t you?” Patrick asked.

“I —”

“Say it,” Henry said. “Say you’re our good little girl.”

“I — oh, fuck. I’m your good little girl.”

“Just ours,” said Patrick.

“Just yours.”

“Good, baby,” said Henry. Then, he slipped two fingers into her, curling them up and pumping them.

She came a second later with a scream.

“Fuck!” she screamed. “Yes, Henry, oh my god.”

He came up and gave her a kiss, holding her by the back of her neck. She was so exhausted that she almost couldn’t kiss him back, and he smiled.

“Looks like we fucked the life out of her, Patrick.”

“Yeah, we did,” said Patrick.

Then, he pulled Henry into a rough kiss, biting at his lip. Sophia watched, in a daze.

Patrick broke the kiss to suck a hickey onto one side of her neck, and Henry mirrored him, biting down on the other side before sucking a harsh hickey into her soft skin.

When they were done, Patrick laid down, pulling them with him. Patrick and Henry on either side of her. She closed her eyes, just breathing.

“You got some good taste,” Henry said.

Patrick shrugged. “I kinda just know when someone’s a virgin. I knew she’d be down for it, though.”

“I’m right here,” Sophia said softly.

Henry laughed, a big thing that shook his whole body.

“I know, baby girl,” said Patrick.

If Henry didn’t know better, he’d say it was tenderness that Patrick looked at Sophia with. But it was Patrick. So it was all hunger.

“We better get back to the party, huh?” she asked, voice small.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Henry said.

“I’m not really ready,” she said. “Don’t think I could walk if I tried.”

It was Patrick’s turn to laugh.

“Well, take your time, little girl.”

They did, waiting as she slowly got her energy back. When she was ready, she got up, stretching, shaking out her fuck-messy hair. Patrick and Henry watched as she slowly put her panties back on, then her dress. Finally, they both got up, getting dressed.

Then, they went back to the party, Henry and Patrick sharing one last look. Patrick, like he couldn’t wait to do it again, Henry a little sad that he couldn’t take someone’s virginity a second time.


	12. ten

When you woke the next morning, you were on top of Belch, both his arms around you. He was a cuddly sleeper, and it made you smile. You shifted in his embrace, your hips grinding down on his crotch, and you positively grinned. God bless morning wood.

But you weren’t exactly in the mood, so with care and very little speed, you pulled out of his arms and got out of bed. You pulled the silky black sheets and your comforter over him, tucking him in before going to sit at your desk. You took your makeup off, methodically wiping away last night’s mask.

Your phone buzzed. Your eyebrows lifted, wondering who the hell was messaging you. It was almost noon, sure, but barely anyone other than Belch ever texted you anymore.

You picked up your phone, unlocking it and going to the text app.

**11:46am. From: Raven**

_get your ass on skype_

You laughed quietly, careful to not wake your boyfriend.

You finished taking off your makeup, humming Bauhaus under your breath as you did. Then, you got your computer, booted it up, and opened Skype.

You messaged your best friend.

**Hey**

_Hey asshole. Where the fuck have you been?_

You smiled.

**Sorry. I kinda dropped off the face of the earth**

_I know. You fucking worried me. I thought that asswipe ex of yours caught up to you or something_

**Nah. I’ve just been busy with cute boy. We’re officially a thing now**

_WHAT_

_WHEN_

_HOW_

You held back another laugh, grinning at your computer screen. It really had been too long since you’d last talked to her.

**Yeah we just kinda… started going out. We went to a house show and julian showed up and he almost beat his ass for me. Reggie. Reggie almost beat julian’s ass. It was really sweet.**

_Awwwwwww_

_But when did you become a thing???? AND WHY HAVEN’T YOU TOLD ME_

**I’M SORRY RAE**

**I’ve just been so busy. School, drama, getting laid. Two of the guys in our group are a thing now and the other guy has two boyfriends and it’s A. LOT.**

_Holy shit. god, I wish I went to real school. Things would be so much more interesting. The most drama I’m having is online._

**No you don’t. real school is fucking hell. I’m glad I have the guys, tho. Even if they piss me off sometimes**

_Well that’s friendship. I guess._

_ALSO DID YOU SAY YOU’RE GETTING LAID?????? HOW IS HE????????????????????????????_

**OH MY GOD. He has a huge dick. I’m not fucking kidding right now when I say he has. A Huge. Dick.**

_Aslkdjhufakdf;_

_FUCK YESSSSSSS_

_GO YOU!!_

**(holds your face in my hands) and he knows how to use it**

_Oh HELL yes!!_

You kept messaging her for about half an hour, and then your phone went off again. Figuring it was Raven, trying to have two conversations at once, you picked it up, shaking your head and faking a sigh.

**12:13pm. From: Vic**

_Hey. U want some help cleaning up? Tim wants to help_

You smiled.

**12:14pm. To: Vic**

_Just Tim??? Wow Criss thanks a lot_

**12:14pm. From: Vic**

_He has a conscience. Not my fault_

**12:15pm. To: Vic**

_If you bring all three of you I’ll get pizza_

**12:15pm. From: Vic**

_Suddenly I have a conscience_

**12:16pm. To: Vic**

_Good. see you in a bit_

You said goodbye to Raven, then got up and changed into something, as you’d spent the entire half an hour — and some change — that you’d been up naked. Just jeans and a big tee shirt, nothing special. As you were taking the chain that hung between your nose and ear off — it was sort of tricky, and you’d been procrastinating it — you heard a soft grunt come from your bed.

You turned around to see Belch running a hand down his face.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned.

You smiled, going to sit on the edge of the bed next to him, putting a hand on his face.

“Not feeling so good?” you asked.

“That punch… holy shit.”

You laughed.

“It’s serious business,” you said. “I should have warned you.”

“It didn’t taste like _anything_ ,” he said.

He rolled over and put an arm around you, thumb rubbing up and down on your side, burying his face in your back. In your hand, your phone went off again.

Thinking it was Vic again, you unlocked it.

**12:20pm. From: Unknown**

_Hey! It’s Sophia ♥_

“Babe,” you said. “You remember that girl that Henry and Patrick fucked last night?”

“Yeah your… partner in some class?”

“English, yeah. She’s texting me. Did you give her my number?”

“No, baby. I barely even talked to her.”

“Huh. Okay.”

You saved her contact info and then shot off a message.

**12:21pm. To: Sophia**

_Oh hey. What’s up?_

**12:22pm. From: Sophia**

_The boys want to hang out. Do you need help cleaning up?_

You smiled. Looked like it would be a day for everyone to be together again.

**12:22pm. To: Sophia**

_Yeah, I guess. I haven’t looked at the house, but I bet I will._

**12:23pm. From: Sophia**

_Okay! Be there soon!! ♥♥♥_

“Babe,” you said, running a hand through Belch’s hair. “Babe, you gotta get up. Everyone’s coming over to help clean.”

He groaned against your body, pulling you closer.

“Don’t wanna,” he said.

You laughed.

“I know, but c’mon. I’m gonna order pizza, we can put music on. It’ll be great.”

“Cleaning’s not great, baby.”

You sighed, a little happy thing.

“I know. But it’ll be fun, with everyone here.”

He huffed and withdrew his arm, pushing himself into a sitting position.

“D’you know where my clothes are?” he asked.

You looked across the room to where they lay. You’d almost tripped over them when you were getting dressed. You pointed at them.

“Good,” he said. “Now c’mere and kiss me, baby.”

You beamed and got in his lap, lightly kissing him on the cheek. He smiled at you and pulled you in for a real kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You sighed into it, winding your arms around his neck.

As you shifted your weight, you could feel him, hard, underneath you. You broke the kiss and smiled at him, one eyebrow up.

He blushed.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” you said. “Want me to take care of it?”

“No, baby. It’s fine. We gotta be ready for when people show up.”

As if he knew it was going to happen, the doorbell rang. You climbed out of Belch’s lap as you heard the door slam open and Vic call into the otherwise empty house.

“Hey assholes, rise and fuckin’ shine!” he yelled up the stairs.

“Go,” Belch said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

You left your room and went downstairs, where Vic, Tim, and Josh stood in the kitchen, surveying the wreckage. It was an absolute mess, a terrible thing, and you were glad to have them over to help.

“Should we get started?” asked Tim.

“Nah, let’s wait until Henry and them show,” said Vic.

You lifted your eyebrows at that.

“You knew they were coming?” you asked.

“Course. That girl they’re fucking now’s too sweet to let this go without her,” he said.

You laughed.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

A minute later, Belch came down. You had made coffee, and you poured him a cup, which he drank in silent gratitude. Josh also had a cup, but Tim and Vic passed on it, choosing instead to hook Vic’s phone up to the stereo and decide on a playlist to clean to.

The doorbell rang, and you went to the door, opening it to find Patrick, Henry, and Sophia on your porch. She beamed and handed you a cake.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said in lieu of hello. “I made you a cake. I couldn’t sleep, so I baked instead.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” you said, looking at it. It was even iced. Jesus.

You smiled at the guys and beckoned all three of them into your house, closing the door after they were in.

“How’d you get my number?” you asked.

She pointed at Henry. He shrugged, and you shrugged back.

“I’ve never seen you without makeup before,” Sophia said.

“Oh,” you said, not sure how to respond.

“You look so much softer without it,” she continued. “But I understand why you wear it all the time.”

“Well… thanks?” you said.

“You’re welcome.”

“Okay, you guys,” said Vic loudly, finger positioned over the screen of his phone. “It’s time for an 80s movie cleaning montage.”

And then he hit play, and Tainted Love by Soft Cell blared from the speakers.

You laughed, delighted, and then got to work, dismantling the ruins of last night and stuffing it all in big black bags. There were cups and bottles everywhere, some empty, some not. You poured them out. Belch went around with Patrick and Tim — the tallest of the group — taking down the decoration and bundling up the lights and fake cobwebs with varying amounts of care.

When it was done, several hours had passed. You all went out back as you ordered pizza on your phone. Josh produced a fat joint and lit it, passing it around. You were all lightly high when the pizza finally arrived, and you ate it, ravenous.

Then, together, you all laid on the back lawn, heads on each other’s chests and stomachs and laps. Sophia laid between Henry and Patrick, both their hands in her hair. She hummed a happy little tune, something that you recognized from the popular music you’d mixed into last night’s playlist.

“Thanks, you guys,” you said, for something like the third or fourth time.

Vic made a dismissive noise, but Tim propped himself up on his elbows to look at you.

“You’d do the same for us,” he said.

You nodded, staring at the clouds above. It was true. In a heartbeat, you’d help out if they had a trashed house. In a heartbeat, you’d just plain help out if they needed you.

It was strange, to think that these people were your friends. That you’d gone from having no one to almost having a second family. And all because of Belch. All because you’d had car trouble, and the nearest shop was the one he worked at.

You sighed.

“What you thinking ‘bout, baby?” Belch asked, a hand in your hair.

“You,” you said. “All of you.”

“Hm?” said Vic.

“Just. I’m so grateful to be so loved and accepted by so many people,” you said.

Patrick ripped up a handful of grass and threw it at your face. You spat out a blade that landed on your tongue, glaring at him.

“What was that for?” you asked.

“For thinking I love you,” he said.

“You put up with me,” you shot back.

“Not the same thing.”

“And now I know.”

“Still, keep talking like that. I bet the guidance counselor loves you.”

“My parents are hippies. What did you expect? And, by the way, there isn’t a single adult at that school who isn’t worried about me worshipping Satan.”

Sophia giggled.

“Not gonna lie, before I knew you, I thought so, too.”

You laughed, a deep thing straight from your belly.

“Seriously?” you asked.

“Yeah. All that black stuff and your piercings. And your _hair_.”

“What _about_ my hair?”

“Well, I guess it’s not your hair so much as the pentagrams you wear all the time.”

You laughed and looked down at your chest where, sure enough, there was a pentagram pendant laying against your sternum.

“Okay, fair enough.”

You all lazed about for a few more hours, getting more and more high as the day went on. Vic and Josh made out, and you watched them, in a daze.

You turned to Sophia.

“So,” you said. “You and Henry and Patrick, huh?”

She looked over to where Henry and Patrick were sitting, Patrick’s legs thrown over Henry’s lap. Patrick leaned in and whispered something in Henry’s ear, his tongue darting out to lap at his earlobe. Henry laughed and put an arm around him.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “They’re… something.”

“ _Good_ something?”

“Good something. I’m… I guess I didn’t really know what I was getting into with them, but I know now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like them, a lot.”

“Well, don’t worry about liking them too much too fast. It hasn’t even been a whole day.”

“And yet I’ve orgasmed more than I ever thought I’d do in a week,” she said. “God, I’m gonna have to go to confessional.”

You laughed.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna say?”

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. And it was wonderful, and I wish I was more sorry.”

You laughed harder.

“God, imagine the look on the guy’s face when you tell them you got two boys’ dicks at the same time,” you said.

She grinned. “I wish I could see them. But they sit behind a screen.”

You sighed wistfully. “I guess we can just dream, then.”

“Yeah.”

A few more hours passed, and everyone decided to leave. Before they went, you cut up the cake, and you all ate it with varying levels of sophistication. Patrick actually skipped a fork altogether and fed himself and Sophia bites with his hands. Watching her lick crumbs and icing off his fingers was a little too intimate, and you were almost glad to see them go. You watched, shaking your head, but happy, as they left, Henry swatting Sophia’s ass just before she got in the driver’s seat of her car.

Belch came up behind you, putting his arms around your middle.

“You sleepy, baby?” he asked.

“A little. I could go for a nap. But you know what I really want?”

“Hm?”

“I kinda want you to fuck me, nice and slow.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You turned in his arms to kiss him, hands on either side of his neck.

“C’mon, baby,” he said. “Let’s put those sheets to good use again.”

He led you by the hand upstairs to your bedroom. There, he stepped out of his shoes and went to you, pulling your shirt off over your head.

You pushed your pants down, and your underwear, stepping out of all of it. You watched as he did the same, pulling out a condom and rolling it on. Then, he took your hand and led you to your bed, pushing you down on it. He climbed on top of you, and you ran your hands down his arms, feeling his muscles, how big and strong he was. God, he was so big compared to you. You always felt small and safe with him.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” he asked.

“You’re just… fuck, babe, you’re just so hot.”

He smiled, blushing a little. You reached down and started stroking his cock, nice and slow. No need to hurry — no need to rush. His eyes lightly shut and he let out a slow breath. When he opened them again, he set to kissing your neck, down your chest. He sucked a hickey on your collarbone, and you put a hand in his hair.

“Gonna treat you right, baby,” he said, lips brushing your skin.

“You always do,” you replied.

“Mm. You deserve it.”

You smiled at him, soft and sweet.

You thought — maybe, just maybe, you might love him.

You loved people easily, and you never ran from it. You were rarely afraid of love. Even with Julian, you’d loved him quickly and only regretted it when things eventually turned sour and rotten.

The first time he hit you, the love died. You’d still tried, though. You’d still tried. Didn’t get you anywhere, but you weren’t a quitter.

But Belch… _Reggie_.

Maybe. Maybe, you might love him.

When he was done marking you up, he came up and gave you a sweet kiss. He could be remarkably gentle, his big hands cupping your face, holding you like you were something precious. Maybe, to him, you were. He certainly made you feel like you were.

He made you feel like royalty in moments like this. Like gold. Like magic.

He reached down and slid first one finger, then two, into your hole. You let out a soft moan and pulled him in for another kiss. He pulled his fingers out and pushed his cock in, slow, a dragging heat that started in your stomach and flushed your chest.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

“Yeah, baby? You like me in you?”

“Fuck, yeah, Reggie. Fuck me.”

He slowly pulled out and pushed back in again, setting up a lazy rhythm, one hand on you, stroking just a little bit faster than he was fucking you.

Within minutes, you came, chanting his name over and over again. _Reggie, Reggie, Reggie_.

You’d never get tired of saying his real name, though you saved it for the intimate moments.

He came, hips stilling against your ass, with a groan. His eyes were shut, and his breathing was heavy. You pulled him in for another kiss as he pulled out. The kiss broke, and he pulled the condom off, tying it and throwing it in the trash. He pulled you in close, laying down beside you and looking at his watch.

“Got somewhere to be?” you asked.

“No, just wondering where the day went.”

You smiled.

“It’s been a good one,” you said.

“Yeah.”

“Reggie?” you asked.

“Mm?”

“Can I say something?”

“Sure, baby. What’s up?”

“I think… I think I might just love you.”

He smiled.

“Cool,” he said. “I might just love you, too.”

“Cool,” you said.

You snuggled closer to his chest, breathing him in. You fell asleep like that.

When you woke, he was gone.

He’d left a note on your bedside table:

 _Hey baby_  
Had to get home to help Mama out with stuff.   
See you later. 

And at the bottom:

_Love you._

You beamed, clutching the note to your chest.

The next day, Belch had work, but Vic called you in the morning.

“Wanna come over?” he asked. “My parents are gone. Got the house to myself.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Well, me and the boys.”

“Which boys?” you asked. “ _Your_ boys, or _the_ boys?”

You could hear him grinning when he responded.

“My boys.”

“Mm. What’re you doing?”

“Bleaching my hair. My roots have come in, bad.”

“Yeah, I saw. Sure, I’ll be there.”

You hung up and got dressed, putting your makeup on. Then, you went to Vic’s house, letting yourself in.

He was wearing an absolutely horrendous Hawaiian shirt. You laughed, pulling on one of the sleeves.

“What the fuck is this?” you asked.

He grinned.

“It’s fashion. Or at least, it’s the only piece of clothes I don’t mind getting bleach on. C’mon.”

You followed him to the bathroom, where Josh and Tim were sitting on the counter, gently bickering over what music to listen to. 90s grunge or classic rock? Tim wanted the grunge, but Josh was firmly in the camp of classic rock.

They settled on Billy Idol, something completely different, Tim teasing Vic about looking a little bit like the man himself. Vic blushed.

It was nice to see them without Henry and Patrick around. Tim was a little more outspoken, and Josh less protective. Their guards were down, and this felt more real.

Vic stood between them, raking noxious blue goop through his hair, getting closer to his scalp than you were sure was recommended. When he was done, he had some left over, and he jokingly held it out to you.

“Wanna white patch?” he joked.

You looked in the mirror, actually thinking about it.

“You know,” said Josh, “you’d look cool with a skunk stripe.”

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Yeah. With the way you rat your hair normally, it’d be really cool,” said Tim.

“Well, shit,” you said. “Help me section my hair, and I’ll do it.”

Vic whooped, delighted.

He got a comb and sectioned off a chunk of hair leading from the crown of your head to the nape of your neck, pinning back the rest. You were glad that today, you’d chosen to leave your hair natural. If it had been ratted, you’d have to spend an hour undoing all of it just to bleach a part of it. 

“Wait,” said Tim. “This needs goth music.”

“Mm,” said Josh. “What do you recommend?”

“Wait, okay, Siouxsie and the Banshees, right?” asked Tim.

“Right,” you said.

He set to scrolling through his phone, assumedly on Spotify.

“What album?”

“Um,” you said. “A Kiss in the Dreamhouse.”

“Got it,” he said, hitting play.

Cascade started playing, and you smiled. Tim bobbed his head to the music, and Josh reached over and turned the volume up.

Vic put the bleach in your hair, carefully folding it up in sections of foil when he was done.

You went out to sit in the sun, letting the warmth bake the bleach into your hair.

Josh, magic man that he was, produced another joint, and you all passed it around.

“Man,” you said ten minutes later. “I gotta buy more of your stuff for my parents.”

“Oh, yeah? How’d they like it last time?”

“Let’s just say they’re very satisfied customers.”

“Nice.”

Forty-five minutes later, your and Vic’s hair was ready to rinse. He stuck his head under the faucet in the tub, and you in the sink, scrubbing the gritty bleach out. It took him longer, but once it was done, he dried his hair and held up a mirror behind your head so you could see it.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” you said.

Tim and Josh were watching from the door of the bathroom.

“Like it?” asked Tim.

“Hell yeah I do,” you said. You handed Tim your phone. “Take a picture, I’m gonna send it to my parents.”

He did, and you sent the message to your mom.

She replied almost immediately.

**12:05pm. From: Mom**

_OMG I love it!! xoxo_

You sent back a smiling face and put your phone away.

“I can’t wait to show Belch,” you said, drying your hair more.

“He’ll love it,” said Tim.

“You think so?” you asked.

You didn’t really care if he liked it or not. You liked it, and that was the important part.

There was, though, a tiny part that worried.

“He loves your look,” said Vic, shrugging. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Cool,” you said. “Got any hairspray? I wanna do my hair up.”

He went and got his mom’s hairspray, giving it to you and watching as you teased your hair. It took you a good fifteen minutes to get it all, and you were careful with the bleached part. You’d have to do some kind of treatment to get it feeling less fragile.

When it was done, Tim actually cheered. You laughed and pulled him into a hug. He went, surprised.

“I’m so glad you guys are with Vic,” you said when Vic left the room to make something for lunch.

“I’m glad we are, too,” said Tim. “I like him a lot.”

You smiled.

“Well, good.”

You said goodbye to them and drove off in the direction of Belch’s shop.

You arrived, getting out of your car and sauntering over to the building.

“Well, _hello_ , darkling,” said the creepy guy who’d towed your car when shit hit the fan what felt like forever ago. Dom. That was his name.

You scowled at him.

“Where’s Reggie?” you asked.

He pointed to a car that was up on a jack. Underneath it, out stuck a pair of feet wearing boots that were undeniably Belch’s.

“Thanks,” you said, walking over to the car. The hood was up, and you looked down through the engine, whistling to get Belch’s attention.

Startled, he looked at you with wide eyes.

“Baby,” he said. You could hear the worry, thick, in his voice. “Did something happen to your car?”

You smiled. “No, but I got something I wanna show you. Come on out.”

He slid out from under the car, slowly getting to his feet and wiping off his hands, covered in grime and oil.

“What is it?” he asked.

Instead of answering, you turned around, gesturing to the back of your head where your skunk stripe proudly shone.

“Oh, nice,” he said as you turned back around to face him.

“You like it?” you asked.

“I do,” he said.

“Good,” you said, leaning in to kiss him.

“Baby, I’m all dirty,” he said, pulling away.

“Who the fuck said I care?” you teased him.

He grinned, and you got that kiss. A few of the guys who were just standing around whistled and you smiled into the kiss, pressing your body closer to his.

“Baby, I gotta get back to work,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll see you later?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. Tonight.”

You backed away from him, waving, smiling.

Then you got in your car and drove away.


	13. eleven

The rest of the week passed, hazy and beautiful. It was a daze of getting high, getting lightly drunk, and fucking around. No one had anything better to do, so they figured they’d do nothing together.

On Thursday night, you messaged Raven.

**Everything ready?**

_Yeah_

**Nervous?**

_If anything your man should be nervous to meet me._

You laughed.

**I think he kinda is actually**

_Good. I hope he knows how important we are to each other_

**I think he’ll understand Rae. I really think he will**

_Well good. I’ll be there in the morning bright and early_

**Ok**

You went to bed, shooting off a message to Belch.

**12:34am. To: Reggie**

_She’s definitely coming. You ready?_

**12:35am. From: Reggie**

_As ready as I can be_

Then, another:

**12:35am. From: Reggie**

_Hope she likes me_

You smiled.

**12:36am. To: Reggie**

_She’ll love you. She’s not stupid. Of course she’ll love you_

**12:38am. From: Reggie**

_:)_

It turned out, not to your surprise at all, that bright and early for Raven meant just before noon. You waited out on the front porch for her. She pulled up in her beat-up car, dressed to the nines. You knew her — she was trying to scare Belch.

He was not one to scare easy. He was already dating an entire goth, after all. One more wouldn’t do much.

She got out of the car and raced over to hug you.

“Jesus, have you grown?” she asked. Then, she groaned. “Fuck, I sound like a great-aunt you haven’t seen in forever.”

You laughed and pinched her cheek, being careful not to pull on her dimple piercing.

“Look at you, so beautiful. How you’ve grown,” you joked, in a shaky voice that you hoped sounded old.

She rolled her eyes and hugged you tighter. When she pulled back, she surveyed the street.

“So this is your town, huh? This is the infamous Derry.”

“Yeah,” you said, sighing. “This is home now.”

She frowned.

“Portland is home,” she said.

“Not anymore,” you said. “Derry… Derry is home.”

“You haven’t even been here a whole year.”

“I know, Rae. But… this place. It has a way of sucking you in. I can’t imagine life anywhere else.”

“Well, you could do worse. At least there’s an arcade and a movie theater.”

“But they never show anything scary. I swear, Rae, I’m dying slowly.”

“Well, fuck. What do you do for fun?”

“Get high or wasted. The usual.”

Finally, she laughed.

“Well,” she said again. “You could do worse.”

“C’mon,” you said.

You opened her trunk and got her bag out. Then you pulled her into your house.

She looked around, not quite interested. It was just a house, decorated the way your parents always had home. A little bit hippie-ish, but mostly just the way adults did things. Homey. Comfortable.

“Where’s your room?” she asked.

“Already bored of everything else?” you teased her.

“You know me.”

“Well, c’mon. Upstairs.”

You led the way to your room, hearing her sigh as soon as she crossed the threshold.

“What?” you asked.

“It’s not black. I’m revoking your goth card.”

You laughed.

“I tried for something different. I still have all my posters and stuff. I just didn’t want to paint.”

She _tsk_ ed you then flopped down on the bed, on her back. She ran a hand through the part of her hair that wasn’t ratted up. You sat beside her, one hand on her shoulder.

“You tired?”

“I could go for some coffee, yeah. And food.”

“Well, come on. I’ll drive. We’ll blast the Cure. It’ll be great.”

She smiled.

“Okay.”

You arrived at Lucky Day Diner and got a booth, sitting across from each other, ordering a carafe of coffee to split and getting pancakes.

“They’re not as good as your dad’s,” she said.

“Nothing is,” you said.

“Still sorry I had to miss them.”

“I know. They’re sorry, too. But you know.”

“Yeah.”

She looked at her phone for the time. The bell over the door chimed, and in no time, Vic was sitting next to you.

“Hey, you,” he said. “I thought I saw your piece of shit car outside.”

“Hey,” you said. “That’s my piece of shit. No one else’s allowed to bitch about it. Also, hi.”

You smiled at him, at Tim and Josh, who stood at the end of the table.

“Raven,” you said. “This is Vic.”

You put your hand on his shoulder.

“And these are his boyfriends, Tim and Josh.”

She smiled a scary grin, trying to show them she was nothing to fuck with. She didn’t need to waste that smile on them.

“Raven,” she said, holding out a hand for Vic to shake. He took it. “Best friend from Portland.”

“We’ve heard of you,” he said.

“Mind if we sit with you?” asked Josh.

“Oh, sure,” she said, scooting closer to the window.

Josh sat next to her, and Tim next to him.

“So, what’re you guys up to today?” Vic asked.

He stole a bite of your bacon as he said that. You smacked his hand away, not that it mattered. He was already eating it.

“Gonna finish eating. Then pick Belch up from work,” you said.

“Mm. You three gonna hang out with us tonight?” he asked.

“All of you?” you countered.

“Yeah, unfortunately, all of us.”

You knew then that he hadn’t quite let go of what had happened between him, Henry, and Patrick.

You hummed.

“Maybe,” you said. “I’m not sure.”

“Sophia will be there,” said Tim.

“Well, that tips the scales a little bit,” you said.

“Who’s Sophia?” Raven asked. “And why wouldn’t we be hanging out with the rest of the guys?”

“Sophia’s fucking Henry and Patrick,” said Josh, putting his arm around Tim.

“And I’m not sure I want you to meet Patrick, honestly,” you said. “He’s… a lot.”

“Oh, yeah?” she said. Her voice said she wasn’t afraid. She never was.

For a homeschooler, there was very little in this world she was afraid of.

“He’ll eat you alive,” Tim said, voice quiet.

“I’ll get there first. Don’t worry about me,” she said.

You laughed. Vic snorted.

“Well, I’m rooting on you,” he said.

“Thanks.”

You left the restaurant and went to your car. You looked at the time on your phone. Belch was about to get off work.

“You guys wanna go pick up Belch with us?” you asked Vic and the guys.

“Yeah, sure, if you have room. You sure we can all fit in that shoebox?” Vic said. “Looks like a fucking pregnant roller skate.”

Raven laughed, a barking little thing that said she wasn’t yet comfortable with everyone. You looked at her, sympathetic. She’d get there, and fast, if she really tried.

“You can fit, asshole,” you said.

“Sure, _I_ can,” he said, “but what about the guys?”

You pushed him towards your car.

“Well, I guess we’ll see.”

The guys all piled into the back seat, Vic lighting up a cigarette as soon as he got settled in the middle.

“So we pick up Belch,” he said. “Then what?”

“I dunno,” you said. “Where are we hanging out with the guys? We could just get straight to it.”

“Belch,” Raven whispered to herself. “What kind of name is that?”

You shot her a look. You didn’t like it either, but you were still protective of it.

Truth be told, you liked Belch so much you’d call him just about anything.

“Henry’s place,” said Josh. “Apparently, his dad’s on a long shift.”

“Nice,” you said.

You drove to the shop. Everyone hopped out of the car, Vic and the guys hanging back as you and Raven walked into the workshop.

“Reggie,” called Dom, apparently knowing better than to talk directly to you, “your little piece of ass has a twin.”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll break your fucking nose again,” said Belch, rounding the corner of a car and walking up to you and Raven. He wiped his hand off as best as he could before holding it out for Raven to shake. She took it, shaking it and quickly letting go.

“Reggie,” you said. “This is Raven.”

“Raven,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only the worst, I hope,” she said, sending him a toothy grin.

He laughed. She smiled again, a genuine thing.

“Now, listen,” she said. “We call you _cute boy_ when we talk about you. But I didn’t expect this.”

He blushed, a little uncomfortable.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Oh, honey,” she said, chuckling. “I’m not scamming on you. You’re awfully cute, but you’re not my type.”

“Okay,” he said, one hand going to the back of his neck. Then he turned to you. “What’s the plan?”

“Scrub up and go to Henry’s. Butch is on a long shift today.”

“Nice,” he said.

He kissed you, a fleeting thing, and pulled away, going to change out of his jumpsuit. He came back, hands significantly cleaner. He looked surprised to see Vic and the boys with you.

“You guys wanna ride with me?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Tim.

Everyone got into their respective cars and rode off to the Bowers house.

“Okay,” said Raven when you were almost there. “Gimme a rundown of everyone. Vic’s a bottle blonde and like, super gay. Tim’s quiet, Josh is possessive. Who else?”

“Okay,” you said. “So there’s Henry. An actual pissbaby, but don’t get on his bad side. It’s just not worth it. Then there’s Patrick. He’s… I don’t know? Predatory. Creepy. You’ll see. Then Sophia. She’s absolutely the sweetest person I think I’ve ever met. She’s the absolute opposite of Henry and Patrick, but somehow ended up with them anyway. Like imagine if honey was a person. Then sprinkle sugar on top. That’s her.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

You arrived at the house and climbed out. Henry and Patrick and Sophia were waiting on the porch for you, and you watched as Raven sized them up, eyes catching on Sophia.

She blushed, fair skin reddening. You held back a laugh.

“Raven,” she said, holding out a hand for Sophia to shake. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Sophia actually looked at Patrick and Henry, waiting for them to nod before she took Raven’s hand.

“You too. I didn’t know you’d be so pretty,” she said.

The blush on Raven’s face deepened.

“I can say the same for you,” Raven said.

Sophia beamed.

You pulled Raven away from her, hissing in her ear.

“She’s taken,” you whispered.

“A girl can fucking hope,” she shot back, eyes still on Sophia.

“What are you two talking about?” Henry barked. He must have felt left out.

“Nothing,” you said as Raven said, “I’m uselessly bisexual and your girlfriend is really hot.”

You put one hand over your eyes as Patrick let out a slow, slinking smile, eyes burning.

Well,” he said. “How do we feel about that, Sophia?”

Sophia smiled, shy.

“I think you’re hot, too,” she said.

“Cool,” Raven said. Then she leaned in and pressed a short kiss to Sophia’s kiss.

Just then, Belch and the boys arrived. Belch pulled you in, one arm around your shoulders.  

“Jesus,” said Vic, holding Tim’s hand. “What’d we miss?”

“Just the best thing I’ll see all day,” said Patrick.

“I’m not fodder for your wank bank,” Raven snapped.

There she was again, your best friend. The Raven you knew and loved.

“Maybe not you,” said Henry. “But Sophia is. You messed with the wrong girl if you don’t want to be thought of that way.”

“Don’t fight,” said Sophia. She genuinely looked worried.

“We won’t,” said Raven. “I’d win.”

Patrick laughed. It was a hollow thing, humorless and dark.

“That’s what you think, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your —” Raven started.

You interrupted.

“Are we gonna get fucked up, or what?” you asked.

“Well, since you asked so nice and pretty,” Henry drawled. “Yeah, we are. Pat, come on. You guys go out to the hay loft, we’ll meet you there.”

You took Belch by the hand, leading him out to the barn. You looked over your shoulder once to see Raven with her arm around Sophia’s waist, Sophia glowing with the attention.

You didn’t know Sophia swung that way. Today was gearing up to be full of surprises.

You all got up in the hay loft, situating yourself in a loose circle. You on Belch’s lap, Raven and Sophia to your right, Vic and Tim and Josh to your left. Josh pulled out a joint and lit it, passing it around as Henry and Patrick rejoined the group. They had three bottles of whiskey, each part of the way full. They passed those around in exchange for a puff apiece on the joint.

In fifteen minutes, you were buzzing, curled up in Belch’s lap, one of his arms wrapped tight around your waist. Raven and Sophia were whispering, heads in close like they were conspiring.

“What you girls talking about?” Patrick asked.

“How bad I wanna kiss her,” said Raven.

Sophia blushed just a little bit.

“You should do it,” Henry said.

“What’s stopping me is you and your boy toy,” Raven shot back. “Girls who like girls are not just here to get you off.”

“Surprisingly, I’m less worried about me getting off than I am about Sophia,” said Patrick, running two fingers down Sophia’s spine. She smiled over her shoulder at him like he was the sun on a rainy day.

How anyone could look at Patrick Hockstetter like that was beyond you.

“Yeah?” Sophia asked. She looked at Henry. “What about you, baby?”

His cheeks reddened.

“Like I said, baby girl,” he said. “You should do it. If you really want to, you should.”

Without a word, she turned and kissed Raven. Surprised, Raven didn’t respond for a moment. Then, she kissed her back with energy, one hand shooting out to grab her by the back of the neck.

Vic and Josh laughed. You smiled. You looked at Belch, and he was smiling, too.

The kiss ended, Sophia grinning.

“That was fun!” she said. “Not all that different from kissing a boy. Softer, though.”

You laughed.

“What did you expect, something completely different?” you asked.

“You got some experience with this?” asked Henry.

“Well, I have kissed Raven,” you said.

“Yeah?” Sophia asked Raven. “How was it?”

Raven smiled, taking her hand.

“It was good. We wanted to figure out if we had feelings for each other. We didn’t,” Raven said. 

“Huh,” said Henry.

“What?” you asked, lighting a cigarette. Belch took it from you and took a drag.

“Nothing. Just. Kissing your best friend. Could go wrong.”

He was more thoughtful when he was fucked up. It was kinda cute.

“Lucky for you and me both it didn’t, huh?” you teased him, looking at Patrick.

Patrick lazily slung his arm around Henry’s shoulder, pressing a kiss, and then another, to his jaw.

“Lucky us,” he purred.

You rolled your eyes and settled deeper into Belch’s lap.

You smoked your cigarette down, watching as Sophia got brave and kissed Raven again. It soon turned into a full make-out, Raven’s hands in Sophia’s hair, on her waist, pulling her closer.

You turned away, wanting to give them more privacy than perhaps they wanted or needed. Josh held out his hand, passing you the joint. You took it and relit it, one hand on Belch’s jaw as you took a long drag. You blew the smoke into his open mouth, ending with a lazy kiss.

In ten more minutes, everyone was uselessly fucked. You all lay around like you always did when you all got like this, heads on stomachs and chests and laps. Hands in hair. Hands in the air, waving this way and that as you talked in twos and threes.

“We are so lucky to have found each other,” Sophia said. “So lucky.”

“Who, us?” asked Raven.

“No. Not just you and me. All of us.”

“Mm. You all make quite the group,” Raven said.

“And you’re a part of it, now,” said Sophia. “You’re a part of it.”

“Well, thanks, but I’ll be gone in the morning.”

“So give us your number. We can call. We can text.”

Raven grinned.

“You want my number, sweetie?”

Sophia giggled.

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“I would — I would come up to see you,” said Raven. “All of you.”

“Aw,” said Patrick.

“Well, never mind,” Raven laughed. “Not you.”

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, grinning at her wolfishly. Then he kissed Henry, hard, so hard you heard their teeth clack together. You smiled at them, a fond look on your face. They were assholes, for sure, but they were perfect for each other.

The night wound down, all of you sobering up enough to go your separate ways.

You parted from Belch, not wanting to leave him. But you did, giving him a kiss, one that lasted perhaps longer than it should have. Raven actually had to pull you away, laughing.

You drove her back to your place in amicable silence, thinking over the night.

When you got back home, both of you set to undoing the rats in your hair, taking about half an hour before both of you were satisfied.

You got in bed, her on the other side, curled in commas towards each other.

“You really love him, don’t you,” she said in the dark. “And this town. You really… you’re really happy here.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I am. I do.”

“Well, good. We miss you in the scene back in Portland, but it’s good that you’re happy. What’re you gonna do after you graduate?”

“I dunno. I haven’t really thought about it.”

“It’s only a few months away, doofus.”

“I know, asshole. I know. But you know me.”

“You only live in the present. You and your hippie parents, only looking at what you got, not what you’re gonna have.”

You shoved her shoulder lightly, smiling.

“I know. I gotta find a job,” you said.

“Where you thinking?”

“Well, just about anywhere. But this is a small town, Rae. There’s only gonna be some places that would even think about hiring me. I’m not gonna go normal for a job.”

“Hm,” she said. “You should try the library. Librarians are fairly liberal.”

You smiled, thinking of the library you’d frequented in Portland. It was a safe haven for weirdos and freaks like you.

“Maybe,” you said. “Maybe.”


	14. twelve

The next day, you saw Raven off only hours before your parents came home. You kissed them both hello, taking the gift they brought you from your grandparents — an infinity scarf in a deep green, so deep it was almost black.

You hoped one day that you’d be like them. Self sufficient and deeply in love for life.

School came back, and you went back to your routine. You shared your afternoons with your parents, with Belch, with Vic and Tim and Josh. It was good. It made you happy.

But you were restless. Graduation was closer than ever, and then suddenly right around the corner.

The day before graduation, you went to Belch’s house. His mother wasn’t home, and though you adored her, you were glad. You needed the alone time. You needed it badly.

When you knocked on the door, he answered. Instead of saying hello, you rushed in and kissed him, pushing him backwards into the house and closing the door behind the two of you without pulling away from him. He sighed into your mouth, arms going around you as he led you to his bedroom. When you both got there, you pushed him down on the bed and started getting undressed, as fast as you could.

“Baby,” Belch laughed. “You all keyed up?”

“Fuck, yeah,” you said, carefully lifting your shirt over your ratted-up hair. “I want you to spank me.”

“What did you do? Baby, have you been bad?”

He looked so concerned that you laughed, climbing into his lap, straddling him, naked.

“No, babe. I just… have a lot of restless energy and I was hoping you’d help me get it out.”

He smiled gently at you. One of his big hands smoothed over your ass, then grabbed it, rough.

“You sure?” he said.

“Please,” you said. “Please. I want you to spank me.”

“Put your head down, then, baby,” he said.

You adjusted so that you were just straddling one of his legs then leaned forward until your chest was flat on the bed beside him. He kept his hand on your ass, the other grabbing your hip, keeping you in place. He gave you a short swat, and you closed your eyes, letting out a soft sigh.

You needed this. You wanted this.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Go ahead.”

He did, laying into you. Not particularly fast, but hard all the same. His big hand nearly covered your whole ass in one stroke, and it had you squirming for him. Every few strikes he would pause, fingertips dragging over your hole, and you would sigh, pushing back into the touch.

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” he asked, slowly pushing one finger into you.

You nodded, then realized he wasn’t looking back at you.

“Please,” you said.

He manhandled you off his lap and onto the bed, putting your head down and keeping your ass in the air. You swallowed hard, waiting for him.

He knelt behind you and started eating you out, pushing his tongue in and pulling it out, slow, wet. He hummed as you squirmed, then put his hand on you, teasing you.

“Reggie, please,” you breathed, reaching down to put your hand over his, making the pressure more insistent.

“Uh uh,” he said, pulling his hand away, shaking yours off. “I’m gonna take this slow. You understand?”

“ _Reggie_ ,” you said.

“ _Baby_ ,” he said, imitating you, lips brushing over your ass. He kissed it gently before going back to eating you out.

You sighed. Then, you closed your eyes as he pushed a finger into you. Then another.

It took him a few minutes before he stood behind you. You watched over your shoulder as he undid his pants, pushing them and his boxers down.

“Reach in the bedside table and get me a condom, okay, baby?”

You did, handing it back to him and pushing up onto your hands and knees. He rolled it on and ran a finger down your spine, ending with a short slap to your ass. You held back a yelp, looking back at him, eyes shining.

God, but you loved this boy.

He slowly pushed into you, hands hard on your hips. He fucked you slowly, so slowly that you were dying. So slowly you were gasping, pushing back on him, trying to get him to go faster.

“You really want this harder, don’t you, baby?” he asked.

“Please,” you begged.

“How bad do you want it?” he asked, pulling out of you entirely.

“Please,” you said. “Please, Reggie, please, I’m dying, here.”

He climbed onto the bed beside you, pulling you onto his lap and kissing you softly. You pushed into it, hard, biting down on his bottom lip before soothing it with your tongue. He winded a hand into the back of your hair, gently pulling. With his other hand, he lined up with your hole and pulled you down on him. You sighed, eyes fluttering closed.

He heaved you up by the underneath of your knees, dropping you down on his cock. You put your head back, exhaling. He kept doing it, fucking up into you hard, fast, rough. You swallowed and he kissed a line up your neck and ended at your mouth, sliding his tongue over your lips before pushing into your mouth.

“Reggie,” you breathed.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I fucking — I fucking love you so much,” you said.

“I love you too, baby. So much.”

You picked up his hand, kissing his fingertips before pulling his fingers into your mouth, licking at them.

He grinned at you, pulling you up and down on his cock.

“You’re so good, baby,” he said. “So good.”

“Yeah?” you asked, taking his fingers from your mouth to smile at him. “I fuck you good?”

“So good, baby.”

He took his hand from you and put it on you, stroking you nice and fast.

You came a minute later, moaning his name. He kept fucking up into you, fast, then held you down on him as he came inside you. He leaned in, putting his forehead to yours. He kissed your snake bites, then kissed you once, short, on the lips, before he lifted you off of him, putting you on the bed and standing, taking the condom off and tying it before throwing it in the trash.

You got situated with your head on his pillow, then held out a hand for him. He took it, laying beside you, slipping an arm under your shoulders and just holding you.

Your ass was sore, but you couldn’t care less. It was what you’d asked for, what you’d needed.

You sighed.

“Feel better, baby?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed, putting your head on his shoulder.

You turned your head and kissed his shoulder, and he smiled down at you.

You took a short nap, then went home. Your parents were making dinner, waiting on you.

“Where’ve you been, starchild?” your mom asked.

“Mm. At Reggie’s.”

“Let me guess,” your dad said.

“Yes,” you said. You knew exactly what he was going to ask.

“You did?”

“Yup.”

Yup, you had sex. Yup, you didn’t mind him knowing.

“And you were safe?” asked your mom.

“Always. What’s for dinner?”

“Tofu lo mein again,” said your dad. “I added purple cabbage this time for color.”

“Yum.”

That night, you laid in bed, unable to sleep. You picked up your phone.

**12:31am. To: Reggie**

_Can’t sleep_

**12:33am. From: Reggie**

_Me too_

**12:33am. From: Reggie**

_But we need to. Big day tomorrow_

**12:34am. To: Reggie**

_I know babe. Would you do me another favor?_

**12:35am. From: Reggie**

_Anything_

**12:35am. To: Reggie**

_Would you come here? I’d sleep better with you here_

**12:36am. From: Reggie**

_Be there soon_

You got up and unlocked the door, then went back up to bed. You’d almost dropped off when you heard the door open downstairs. You sat up in bed, waiting on him. In a minute, he was in your bedroom door, looking exhausted.

You moved to the side of your bed and held out your arms. You watched as he got undressed, then crawled onto the bed next to you, into your arms. You held him tight, just breathing in his air, eyes shut tight.

“You gonna sleep now, baby?” he said, voice barely more than a hush. Barely more than a breath.

You sighed.

“Yeah,” you said.

You drifted off to sleep, your arms around him.

When you woke up, you were on top of him. One of his arms was around you, his hand on your ass, still a little sore.

You pushed yourself up with one hand on his chest so you could look at him. He cracked his eyes.

“There you are,” he said.

“Here I am,” you said.

You shifted above him, feeling him, hard, under you.

“You have good dreams?” you asked, grinning.

“The best,” he said. “About you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“How ‘bout we make your dreams come true?” you asked.

He grinned.

“You always do,” he said.

You closed your eyes for a moment, smile growing bigger. He wound a hand around the back of your neck, and you opened your eyes as he pushed up to kiss you. You sighed into the kiss, sweet and slow. With the hand on your ass, he pulled you down harder on him. You rocked against him, then he pulled his hand off you and ended the kiss.

“Your parents,” he said.

You sighed.

“They’re probably already up, but…” you looked at your alarm clock. “They won’t be coming up here for another hour. We’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Reggie. I’m sure.”

“Guess you just need to be nice and quiet, huh?” he asked, eyes glinting.

You bent down to kiss him again. When the kiss ended, you smiled at him.

“It’ll be hard,” you said. “But I think I can do it.”

“Good. You make too much noise, and I’ll spank you until you cry,” he said.

You let out the tiniest gasp, delighted.

“Oh, really?” you asked, rocking against him.

“Yes, baby. You understand?”

You nodded, smiling.

“Take your clothes off,” he said.

You peeled your shirt off over your head. When you made to roll off of him to take off your underwear, he stopped you, pulling you down and licking a short stripe over one of your nipples, then bit down on it, just a soft scrape of his teeth over your sensitive skin. You sighed, eyes slipping closed.

He worked on your nipples, trading between them, for a few minutes, both hands on your ass, holding you down on him, guiding you back and forth over his bulge.

When he was satisfied, he pushed you off of him, onto the empty half of the bed. You wriggled out of your underwear as you watched him stand up and take his sleeping clothes off, his shirt and flannel pajama pants and boxers.

“Do you have a condom?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, reaching into the drawer next to you to get one. You pulled it out and tossed it to him.

“Good,” he said. He tore the packet open with his teeth and rolled it onto his hard cock. “Roll over.”

You rolled onto your stomach, face sideways so you could watch as he climbed onto the bed, climbed onto you, straddling your thighs.

He pushed a finger, then two, into you. Testing you. Making sure you were ready for him.

Then he gave your ass a short swat. Then two more. You looked back at him, and he was grinning. You smiled back.

“I thought I only got spankings when I’ve been bad,” you said.

“You didn’t yesterday,” he reminded you, slapping your ass again. “Besides, you’re being very naughty right now. Wanting me to fuck you when your parents could hear us.”

You grinned.

“Yeah,” you said.

He pushed into you, slow. You turned your face so you could groan into the pillow as he fucked into you, rough, slapping your ass here and there. He laid his body down on top of yours, growling in your ear.

“Dirty little thing,” he said. “So good for me.”

You nodded, frantic, as he fucked into you with short, hard thrusts.

He wound his fingers through the hair on the back of your head, yanking your head back and putting his other hand over your mouth.

“But you’re gonna be nice and quiet for me, aren’t you?” he asked.

You nodded again.

“Bet you wanna be so loud,” he said. “Bet you wanna scream.”

You reached up and shoved his hand away from your mouth.

“Yeah,” you gasped. “ _Fuck_ , Reggie. Fuck me so good.”

“Yeah, baby? You like me in you?”

He sat up and pulled out entirely and then slammed back into you. You let out a short scream into your pillow. He did it again, and again, and again, until you could barely breathe.

But you kept the noise to a minimum, burying your face in your pillow when you just had to let something out.

With a soft groan, both hands kneading your ass, he came, still inside you. He pulled out and took the condom off, tying it and throwing it away before turning you over, laying down and pulling your legs over his shoulders. He put his mouth on you, sucking and licking like he’d never be able to do it again. You slapped a hand over your mouth, shutting your eyes tight.

You came, whimpering.

“Reggie,” you whined. “Fuck. Fuck, babe.”

He smiled up at you, then a look of pure shock came onto his face.

“What?” you asked, pushing yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“Your parents — I’m gonna hafta look them in the eye, knowing what I just did.”

You laughed, soft and gentle. You put a hand in his hair and pulled him up to kiss you.

When the kiss ended, you said, “babe, it’s okay. They know we fuck, and they don’t mind. Besides, they love you.”

Still, he was blushing, and you grinned.

“I don’t know, baby,” he said.

“I know. But I promise it’s okay. Let’s get dressed and just go downstairs, okay? Get it over with. Do it fast, like ripping off a band-aid.”

He sighed and laid his head down on your chest, hands on either side of your waist.

“I’m not ready,” he said.

You ran a hand through his hair, then picked up one of his hands and brought his knuckles to your lips, kissing them gently.

“You don’t have to be,” you said. “Tell me when you are.”

He sighed again and laid in silence on top of you for something like ten minutes as you pushed a hand through his hair, humming a Siouxsie and the Banshees song.

When he was ready, he pushed up and kissed you, then got off of you, putting on the clothes he’d brought with him. Graduation clothes. His nice jeans, without any grass stains or worn out seams. A plain grey t-shirt.

You got up and he sat on the bed, watching as you slowly put on your daily mask, choosing today not to rat your hair — entirely because if you had it ratted, you wouldn’t be able to wear your graduation cap. Then you did your face up to the nines, eye liner sharp and dangerous, red eye shadow to match the gown you’d have to wear over your clothes later in the day.

As you put the finishing touches on your lipstick, you heard music start up downstairs, and Belch came up and put both hands on your shoulders. Again, you picked up one of his hands and kissed his knuckles, grateful once again for the coating that made sure none of the black came off on his skin.

“I love you,” he said quietly. “So much.”

You swallowed and closed your eyes. Sometimes, when he said it, you had to remember how good it was, how it could never be anything like what you’d had with Julian. How safe you were.

“I love you, too,” you breathed.

“Starchild! Reggie!” your mom called up the stairs. “Pancakes!”

Belch stooped down so he could smile at you in the mirror. You smiled back and stood, giving him a short kiss before taking him by the hand and leading him downstairs where your parents were waiting with breakfast ready.

You almost couldn’t eat, you were so nervous about the day.

About graduating.

About what that meant.

You had to leave school, leave the thing that defined so much of your existence for the last thirteen years behind like so much dust. Wipe it away like taking off makeup. Push it away like a friend you’d grown out of.

Was school the best? No. Was it still important to you? Of course.

Your parents talked you through the day, and you talked them through your plans.

Then, Belch and you left, going to pick up Henry and Patrick and Sophia.

When the ceremony rolled around, you sat in between two people you couldn’t care less about. You wished desperately that this thing wasn’t alphabetical, that you could hold Belch’s hand, that you could smile at Sophia, that Vic could fill the tense silence with hissed commentary about the various speeches given.

You got your diploma. You shook hands with the principal. You practically ran back to your seat.

When the ceremony was over, and it was time to throw your hat, you ran to Belch, who had rushed to be next to Henry. Belch put an arm around you, and you threw your hats, and he kissed you.

Twenty minutes later, you were roaming around with your friends, looking for your parents, who were still somehow out of sight, when out of nowhere, you were tackled from the side.

“What the —” you started, then looked down at the laughing person wrapped around your middle.

Raven. She’d made the drive to see you graduate, a surprise you’d never asked of her.

Happy tears rushed to your eyes, and you pushed her off of you only to pull her into another hug.

“You came!” you cried, reaching around her head to push tears from your eyes.

“Yeah,” she said. “I couldn’t miss you leaving real school. I just couldn’t.”

Beside you, Sophia was laughing, high and sweet, one of Henry’s arms wrapped around her. He looked immeasurably angry, and you knew why. His father hadn’t bothered to see him graduate.

Raven pulled back from the hug, putting her hands on your shoulders.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have something I’ve been wanting to do for a couple months,” she said.

“Uh, okay?” you said.

Then, she went over to Sophia and kissed her, slinging her arms around her shoulders. Henry barked out a laugh and bared his teeth at a boy who walked past, eyes glued to the kissing girls.

When the kiss ended, they pressed their foreheads together, Sophia’s eyes slipping closed. Patrick smiled at them, but neither of them noticed.

A tap on your shoulder turned you around, and you found your parents smiling at you.

You pulled both of them into a huge hug, laughing.

“You did it, sweet bean,” your dad said.

“I did,” you replied.

“We got you something,” your mom said.

You pulled out of the hug and she handed you a box about the size of your hand.

“Don’t open it here, though,” your dad said. “Might get you in trouble.”

You laughed.

“Okay,” you said.

You kissed them each on the cheek, then watched as they left.

Thirty minutes later found you again in the hay loft of Henry’s barn, and you finally remembered the gift from your parents. You opened it, sitting in Belch’s lap, to find two beautifully rolled, fat joints. You laughed, taking one out and lighting up, passing it around. Under the joints was a bracelet, beads of lava rock, riddled with holes. It gave off a faint smell, somehow stronger than the weed, and you lifted it to your nose. Patchouli. Of course. The beads must hold onto the smell because of how porous they were.

Vic, Tim, and Josh sighed together after each taking a hit from your joint.

“Is this the part where we say something cheesy about how we’re all friends and we’ve made it so far… and we’ve graduated now, and blah, blah, blah?” asked Patrick.

“That’s plenty good enough,” Henry said, his hand in Patrick’s hair, lazily watching as Raven and Sophia kissed each other.

You laughed.

But it was true, you were all friends and you’d made it so far, and you’d graduated, and blah, blah, blah.

And that was plenty good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> catch me on tumblr at god--baby.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr at god--baby.tumblr.com


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